Shattered Reflection
by Kokki
Summary: BtVS.LotR—A different take on what would happen if Buffy crossed into Middle-earth. For Buffy, this will be the most important journey that she embarks upon in life after death; the quest to save herself. Characters: Buffy; Legolas and other favourites.
1. Hidden Grief

**Summary: **BtVS/LotR — A different take on what would happen if Buffy crossed into Middle-earth. For Buffy, this will be the most important journey that she embarks upon in life after death; the quest to save herself. Characters: Buffy; Legolas and many more favourites.

**Disclaimer: **I claim no rights to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, all material that uses reference from the series belongs to Joss Whedon and UPN. Everything that is related to _The Lord of the Rings_ belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and recongnisable aspects from the Trilogy films, belong to Peter Jackson and Newline.

**Author's Note: **I've read countless crossovers where Buffy is either sent to Middle-earth by the Powers to restore balance the on earth, or because she must save Middle-earth from a new evil. And although most of them were written superbly, I wanted to write something different and deeper, something that delved into the psychological aspect of what is it to be a Slayer and also being brought back from the dead—of the repercussions of war, etc. This is centred around Buffy, but there will be action and adventure in this story, that is also tempered with romance, angst and drama, three of my favourite things to write about! In this story, I will be using both the LotR movie and books for reference, as well as deferring to some _Buffy_ episodes in conjunction.

The story is set after Season Five and is Post-War of the Ring (dates given accordingly). Featured episode in the beginning; _The Gift_.

**Warning:** Rated PG-13 — Prominence of angst and violence. Rating may go up in future chapters.

-

-

-

**Shattered Reflection**

Chapter One:

Hidden Grief.

-

-

-

**In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.**

-

-

-

_Lightning crackled as the air around them began to hum, growing fraught with anticipation. _

_The tower beneath their feet trembled and groaned with strain, threatening to topple from the jarring shudders of the earth. Beyond her, she could see the portal in the distance... All hell was about to break loose if she didn't do something_—_think of anything that would save her world._

_And then, as she ingrained her sister's tears into her mind, the world around her faded away. _

_A serene peace descended upon her as she looked lovingly at the most important person in her world; her beloved sister, her life. She was her reason for being, the reason for everything. She couldn't give her up, not now, not ever... That was something she was not prepared to consider._

_A string of forgotten words echoed deep within her heart... _

"She's not your sister,"_ her mentor's voice rang with pure clarity._

"No. She's not,"_ she heard her reply, _"She's more than that. She's me. The monks made her out of me... Dawn is a part of me."

_It was all so clear, like the delicate rays of sunshine breaking through the clouds on a new day. A day where the pain had fled, where the suffering of her life had disappeared in a cloak of thought and all that was left_—_was her. _

_"Buffy... No!"_

_Oh Dawn... Her sister understood_—_understood what she had to do. Dawn was afraid to let her go, but in the end, she would know that it was for the best._

_"Dawnie, I have to," she whispered with a small, sad smile as her hands still clutched at her sisters arms._

_"NO!"_

_Her resolve never faltered, "Listen to me. Please, there's not a lot of time, listen," Dawn refused to look at her. With a last attempt, she gently shook her sister's shoulders and spoke the painful words that caressed her tongue, "Dawn, listen to me. Listen," she waited until her sister found the strength to look into her azure eyes. She paused, before smiling as she spoke, "I love you. I will _always_ love you. But this is the work I have to do. Tell Giles... Tell Giles I figured it out and_—_and that I'm okay. And give my love to my friends." _

_A bolt of lightning startled them as a winged creature flew out from portal behind her. _

_But she continued on, "You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other... You have to be strong," the sad expression upon her delicate features grew pained. "Dawn, the hardest thing in this world_—_is to live in it. Be brave... Live. For me."_

_The silver tears upon her sister's cheeks burned her heart. She didn't want it to be this way... But she had no choice. _

_With a heavy sigh, she caressed the face of her sister before placing a sweet, gentle kiss upon her cheek._

_Dawn's sobs tore at her as she slowly turned to run_,_ not daring to look back._

_Her arms flew outwards, like the wings of a soaring angel. And she felt so_—_so free, with the wind stroking a happy hand through her tousled blonde locks. _

_The feeling of weightlessness took her as she plummeted down into the waiting arms of death._

-

-

-

Pain.

Searing white, hot pain.

Her spirit hands clawed at the warm light that was being wrenched away from her grasp. But ultimately—she was torn.

Dark.

Nothing but an ebony blanket wrapped around her; stiflingly cold, hard and rough.

No warmth—no warmth!

_Oh God_.

It was torture! Bitter, cruel, twisted torture.

She wasn't meant to be here; she wasn't meant to _be_.

Did she do something wrong?... But it hurts—it hurts so much!

As spirit met the physical, understanding dawned upon her. She was trapped—beneath the ground. There was no air.

Unused emotions rippled through her solid form. Despair and dread filled her at the fate that had been unwillingly forced upon her. Soon, instinct began to rein and the fragile clockwork of her brain slowly began to function once more.

There was nothing more to do—but fight her way out.

-

-

-

**Year 3020 **of the Third Age, _Urui _(August). 

He ran his hands along the fading, silver bark. An ancient wave of melancholy and sorrow eased into his mind from the paling golden-leafed trees. They knew—knew that they would be left to stand alone, once the music and laughter of the elves vanished from the sweet wind to be carried away forever into the Undying Lands. And they could not bear it—could not bear to be parted from their beloved, trusted friends.

It pained his heart greatly, to hear the silver murmur of their distress—but there was nought he could do... Except perhaps listen to their grieving pleas, found in the rustling of branches and leaves.

"You feel it keenly?" His companion said softly, breaking the stillness that shrouded the woodland glade in which they stood.

A gentle yet pained smile broke the stony mask of his glowing face, "Aye, Haldir. I feel it as though it were my own grief—unbound and flowing without restraint."

"I feel it strongly too," the elf beside him whispered. A grim crease, furrowed his brow as his eyes drank in the forest that surrounded them. "It will be a sad day when the elves of the Golden Wood pass over into the Undying Lands."

"Indeed."

"And what of you, Legolas son of Thranduil? What will be your decision?"

Legolas felt himself sighing at the probing question, "I was one of the Nine; I am bound to this land..."

"—However?" Haldir prompted softly.

With resignation, his eyes brushed the delicately curved leaves, never leaving them for fear of relinquishing the beauty that had been upon cast upon him, "When I feel the pull of the sea and my heart rings from the cry of gulls, I will no longer find the will nor peace to walk this Middle-earth."

A moment of accepting silence passed between the elven, warrior duo.

"How soon do you think that will be?" The March Warden found himself asking, knowing that he was being far too personal, but feeling curious nonetheless.

Legolas gracefully shrugged his shoulders, "When my ties to this land are broken—only then shall I feel the need to depart these shores."

The March Warden blinked, breaking the serene spell that had been cast over himself and his companion. Somewhere, deep within his heart, he knew that Legolas Thranduilion would not be able to return to the youthful elf he had once been. The spoils of war had tainted the once joyful being, as he embarked upon the quest to save their world—a quest that had claimed his laughter and lust for life. He could not imagine the depth of pain his fellow wood-elf had experienced, but the grief was ever present, rolling off of his tense shoulders in precarious waves.

It seemed that the horror of what had happened, had weighed heavily upon the Prince of Mirkwood.

Nothing Haldir could empart from his lips would shatter the sadness and grief that lingered in the rims of the younger elf's, ice-blue eyes. Nothing. And for that, Haldir was also grieved. He had witnessed his share of the war, with Lothlórien having been attacked a number of times... But he could never comprehend the shadow that followed the Crown Prince's countenance... For, if truth be told, he did not wish to comprehend it.

Legolas, on the other hand, knew that his form was being scrutinised by the older elf—but he cared not. Let him think what he would, it was of no concern to him.

He understood that his friends worried for him after the war. Almost a year had passed since the war... Nine months on the morrow, to be exact—yet he still could not shake the memories, the fear that had haunted his reverie in the long star-filled nights. For a time, he had travelled with Gimli, but once he returned to his own realm and saw the passing of many elves, his father grew worried at the lingering sadness in his son.

It was one of the reasons that his father had sent him, with Gimli in tow, to the Golden Wood and into the Lady's counsel. His father could not bear to see the change in his once mischievous son and so, he had let him leave the elven realm of Mirkwood once more... To be healed.

"Come," Haldir gestured back towards the path they had previously traversed—the path that would lead them out of the glade, taking them to the city of Caras Galadhon.

-

-

-

Relief coursed through her veins as her hand pushed through the damp earth, and touched nothing but air. With renewed strength, she punched through the knitted soil and used her aching arms to drag herself out of the six-foot prison that had been her grave.

Her grave...

The intense reality of the situation swamped her as she tried to stand, only to fall back down, reeling from the deepened shock that assuaged her heart.

She had been so happy...

Tears clouded her vision. She squinted, shutting her eyes as she realised that the bright rays of the sun were burning into her pupils. Everything felt so rough and coarse... The ground beneath her, the touch of the wind upon her cheeks, the skin of her hands as she rubbed her eyes. It was too much—too much! She wanted to return—return to the soft, peaceful beauty that had claimed her. But somewhere, deep within her heart, she knew that she would not be able to.

She sat silently upon the jagged grass that burned through her clothing, and finally looked up at her surroundings.

A gasp fell from her lips as her eyes took in the glorious beauty of the world around her. Enormous trees surrounded her, with barks of fading silver and leaves of sparkling gold. They shimmered in the warm beams of the sun that filtered through the gaps in the branches of the trees. She looked down, her eyes drawn to the vibrant, dew-dropped green grass beneath her and she could not help but reach out to caress the billowing blades. Still coarse, yet appealing in a way she could not fathom.

A spark of joy filled her as she sniffed the air around her; it was sweet, like the taste of honey that she had long forgotten...

Perhaps this was another form of heaven?

But it was still far too different from the place she had been. There she had felt warm—loved and safe, as though she were cradled in the bright light of comforting hands. Whereas here, there were no such feelings of love and indefinite safety—simply a peace that she could not identify, lingering on the fringes of her soul...

There was no denying it; the place was beautiful... But it could never compare to where she had been. The blissful realm where she knew no thought, no passage of time.

And then just as the feelings of peace and contentment left her—she felt lost, alone... And frightened beyond belief. Question upon question lashed through her thoughts; why had she been sent here? Was this some form of punishment? But then, why would she be sent to such a beautiful, pleasing place, if it was her punishment? Nothing was making any sense to her as she sat silently upon the ground in the wondrous forest with a bewildered expression—_nothing_.

Something niggled at the back of her mind and she rose her gaze to greedily drink in the her surroundings once more—it was as if the trees were speaking to her... Willing to answer her unspoken questions.

Just as she found the strength to stand, a lancing pain shot through the centre of her brain. Unable to stop the scream that tore itself from the deep recess of her throat, she sank to her knees as unwanted images flashed through her mind's eye.

Willow—painted in blood; an innocent dear, killed by her own friend's hand.

The graveyard... Where she had been buried. Her tombstone.

Evil chanting. Dark—so dark...

And then, the pain—the damnable, accursed pain as she was pulled away from the cradling arms that had held her aloft, by an unseen force that held more power, more darkness than anything she had ever felt... As suddenly as the visions had come, the coloured images receded into nothingness, and she was left kneeling on the ground, gasping for breath at the weight of the discovery.

Her friends—her friends had done _this_.

Betrayal, fury, disbelief ran amuck at the stupidity of her so-called friends. She couldn't understand! They had done this to her—but why? How could they be so cruel as to destroy her single chance of happiness...

A path of tears traversed down her dirt-smudged cheeks and she found herself screaming—screaming to unleash the hidden grief.

-

-

-

They returned to the path, to the group of elves and Gimli his dwarf friend, who had been waiting patiently for their return. Legolas managed to offer his waiting companions a smile as they resumed their trek through the woods of Lórien.

From behind, he could hear the hushed tones of Haldir's younger brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, speaking jovially with the twins of Elrond; Elrohir and Elladan. The idle chatter of the quartet eased his bruised spirit somewhat, and Legolas found himself enjoying the banter between the two sets of brothers, occassionally turning to add his own jibes at the ridiculous comments that came from Elrohir.

Legolas smiled as he cast a glance downwards to the mute dwarf that walked silently by his side, in quiet contemplation. Haldir led the group from the front with another elf, called Tathar, son of Hírvegil, who remained equally solemn by Haldir's side.

Perhaps things would seem much better once he stepped foot into Caras Galadhon...

As they continued on deeper into the forest, his heart seemed to grow lighter with every step forward.

Until the company of elves and dwarf, heard a sudden scream of such agonising rage and grief, that it tore at the very fibres of his heart. He saw the others wince and he could feel his own organ begin to pump loudly as the adrenaline slowly built up within his veins; sinew of muscles and tendons tensed as the screams, decidedly female, grew louder from the grief and pain that was being inflicted.

As they stood frozen on the path, he watched with astute alertness as Haldir turned his head towards the area from where the screams had arisen.

The March Warden silently motioned for the other seven elves to remain where they were. Without preamble, he veered off the path and ran through the trees, weaving and jumping around fallen branches with a grace that only the Eldar could possess, only to disappear into the midst of the thick tree trunks.

Not one for being left behind, Legolas followed the March Warden, quietening the protests and disapproval that came from Elrond's twin sons. As he ran, following Haldir's tracks, Legolas couldn't help but smile as he heard Gimli's curses at being restrained from following his friend. The dwarf would follow him into death, if he could; such was his loyalty.

As they entered a clearing in the enormous trees, the sight that he and Haldir came upon, shocked them deeply, as to be rendered utterly speechless.

-

-

-

Haldir had been paralysed as the scream tore through his thoughts. As he ran towards the screams, he couldn't help but dread that someone was being attacked in his woods—his sacred, heavily guarded woods. It was unfathomable. No one could pass through the borders of this land; especially because he was in charge.

To think that someone had made it this far into the Lady's beautiful Golden Wood, made the cold fury within him burn all the more brightly.

The screams had not stopped as he drew nearer to the location, and the fury was once more replaced by concern, worried that a fell creature could be tormenting an innocent victim in the peaceful woods. The thought only fuelled his legs to move faster.

He knew that he was being trailed by the Prince of Mirkwood. Haldir had seen the elf's response to the screams, and so he had not tarried to deal with the Prince for following in his steps. The elven Prince was not prone listening to the orders of others.

Legolas soon caught up with him, and they both entered the clearing together, weapons drawn and ready—only to halt abruptly at the sight before them.

-

-

-

As she began to scream, she had found a wayward branch lying close by. With only the thought process of a Slayer, she took the branch furiously began to beat the earth with they crumbling wood. For some strange reason, she knew not to take her anger out on the trees around her.

The anger—the absolute fury that she felt, was being assuaged by the moist earth as she pounded the heavy branch against the ground, all the while speaking a silent mantra in her mind; _this is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening..._ Any moment now, she was going to be sent back to where she belonged, where she desired to be—heaven. She continued to repeat this thought in her mind as she released her unkempt grief through silent tears and roars of betrayal.

What her Slayer senses had not detected, were the two ethereal beings standing beyond her, gaping with weapons raised, at her raging form as she tormented the poor soil and grass with her rage.

The concern that Haldir felt had vanished and soon, he was left feeling simply disgusted and offended at the spectacle before him.

"_Where did she come from?_" Legolas murmured to Haldir in the dulcet tones of their language.

Their presence was ignored, even as he spoke.

Though, soon enough, the woman's screams died away so that she was left to simply beat the earth with the branch in her hands. Her garb was suspicious; nothing Legolas had ever seen before in his travels, and her pale skin led him to believe that she had not stepped foot into the warmth of the sun for many moons.

She was tiny—incredibly tiny for a human female, and almost delicate in stature. Yet the raw power that trembled beneath her skin, was also not lost upon him—though her true strength was still hidden from his knowledge. He watched with interest as her sun-streaked blonde hair shimmered in the broken rays from the sun, quite a contrast to the muddy colour of the Edain that he had chanced upon. She reminded him of a girl-child's play doll; a small, fragile toy that could easily be broken... A toy that was currently tearing up the soiled earth of Haldir's homeland. And from that alone, he could discern that his companion was not amused.

"_Wherever she hails from, I cannot help but wonder how she passed through the borders of this land_," Haldir replied in their tongue, with an equally soft voice.

It seemed that the March Warden also did not wish to interrupt the spectacle before him; better to let her unleash her anger upon the unmoving earth, rather than them, Legolas mused.

Though, as if his voice had been a catalyst to break through the woman's rage, she whirled around to face them, her eyes wide with surprise and suspicion as she raised the branch in her hands, moving easily into a fighting stance.

As she studied their features with awe, the wooded weapon fell gracefully from her hands, and landed with a loud thud at her feet. The surprise of finding the enraged woman, only heightened for both elves as she promptly fainted to the ground.

-

-

-

Something pierced through the thick wall of emotions that surrounded Buffy. She whirled around at the noise, holding the abused branch that was in her hands, in front of her for defence.

What her eyes saw, made her freeze.

Two glowing, frighteningly beautiful men, standing before her. Their illuminated beauty made her want to weep, never had she seen anything so—so _spectacular_. It was hard to deduce the emotions that welled within her as her eyes roved over each of their delicate, but undoubtedly manly features. Somehow, by just being in their presence, it felt as though she were being embraced in the warmth of their glowing skin—so comforting and soothing, that it left her feeling breathless and light-headed.

Both had long blonde hair, but the larger ethereal being's hair was almost of a silvery hue as though it had been spun from the morning dew-drops that rested upon a land of bladed grass. Both also harboured ice-cold, sea blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the stone fortress of her mind; though the shades of blue varied between the two.

The anger, grief and pain she had been feeling, melted away into an invisible abyss, and belatedly, she realised that her weapon, in the form of the branch, had fallen to the ground beneath her feet. This must be another heaven, she reasoned. No two people on earth could ever be _that_ heart-breakingly beautiful. She was so stunned by their appearance, that she missed the wandering thought that they vaguely reminded her of two warrior angels, come to give her salvation...

As she felt her knees buckle beneath her weight and the world around her faded into darkness, one thing was for certain; she was definitely _not_ in Sunnydale.

-

-

-

**Translations:**

Edain — "Second-born" or "Men"

**Added Notes:** I know that Buffy's reaction is different from what it was in the series, but I took some creative licence since she _did_ wake up somewhere other than her grave-site in darkened Sunnydale. However, her resentment towards her friends will still be the same, and the pain of being alive will also remain as it was in the series. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I would be most grateful to know what you as readers, thought of my first chapter. Thank-you!

--  
--**Kokki**--  
--


	2. A Slayer's Plight

**Author's Notes:** Wow, I've had such great responses from the sites I've posted this first chapter at! I thank all of you so much.

**Thanks to: **_onlimain, Mahal, Locathah_—(She dug out of her own grave. My theory is that Willow's spell backfired and caused a temporal 'shift' so Buffy's body was moved across dimensions—all will be explained in later chapters), _kiwi, NoLifeKing, Mrs. Pointy, charina, zayra, Navaer Lalaith_—(I did know but I couldn't find the crossover section before, but I have now:-))_, Samantha, Renna, Anonymous, Myri, puer-slayer92, Alassante and Shanalir _(the first 'Howdy' person I met, I'm honoured! hehe).

So without further ado, here is the second chapter.

-

-

-

**Shattered Reflection**

Chapter Two:

A Slayer's Plight.

-

-

-

_Previously..._

The anger, grief and pain she had been feeling, melted away into an invisible abyss, and belatedly, she realised that her weapon, in the form of a branch, had fallen to the ground beneath her feet.

As she felt her knees buckle beneath her weight and the world around her faded into darkness, one thing was for certain; she was certainly _not_ in Sunnydale anymore.

-

-

-

Legolas and Haldir started as the girl—_no_, the woman, fainted at the sight of them.

It was true that the mortals of the world reacted intensely in their first moments of encountering Elves, but Legolas had never heard of any Edain, male or female, to have fainted at the feet of the First-born. If he was not so concerned about her, he would have been somewhat amused.

As it was, he was far too worried in attending the woman's unconscious form, to be humoured by her reaction to them.

"She is not from these lands," he mused in their Elven tongue.

As he crouched down beside her, he inspected the delicate features of her small, dirt-encrusted face. The smudged, tear-stained cheeks did not go unnoticed by the Prince of Mirkwood, as he checked for any injuries she may have sustained. "And she does not appear to be injured," he continued thoughtfully, "I wonder what grief encroaches her heart..."

He looked up to see that Haldir had positioned himself opposite the woman's other side, and was also inspecting her thoroughly. His eyes were narrowed at the peculiar clothing that was draped around her lithe, tiny form. It was unlike anything he had ever come across.

"She is like a child in stature," Haldir murmured, slightly to himself. "Her clothing—the stitching is far superior to anything I have ever seen in most of the villages and cities of the race of Men... Perhaps even more so than the garb of our own people."

That was an interesting observation, thought Legolas. He had always believed that the Elves had developed a superior method to weaving and stitching clothes, but it seemed as if his musings had been wrong, judging from the woman's garb.

They continued their silent perusal of her prone form, before Legolas wrinkled his nose in a rather dainty manner, "Why does she reek of death?" He asked his companion quietly.

Haldir sighed heavily and shook his head, "I know not. The smell is quite over-powering, as though it clings to the very pores of her skin."

"Well, we cannot leave her here," Legolas surmised jokingly, "No matter how awful the smell."

"Indeed," Haldir replied as a serious cloak descended upon his stern features, "We must take her to the Lady, for her fate to be decided. She is too far into the borders of this realm for me to send her away to one of the nearby mortal settlements. And even then, my suspicions would not allow her to leave my sight until she is judged accordingly, by the Lady herself."

Legolas raised a finely arched brow, "Perhaps we should try and wake her? If her reaction to us was any indication, I dread to think how she would behave when she sees the others."

The March Warden snorted softly as he spoke in a sly manner, "Why, Legolas, I thought you knew that we are far superior in appearance compared to the other Elves of our company. I am sure her reaction would not be to faint at the sight of them, but to turn and run the other way."

They shared an amused glance with one another before chuckling softly at Haldir's implied insult to the lesser beauty of the other elves they travelled with.

Looking back to the unconscious woman, Legolas reached out and placed his palm upon her dirtied cheek to gently brush away the lingering tears. He was mildly surprised at the coldness of her skin. If he had not seen the movement of her chest, he would have certainly thought her dead. "She is far too cold," he voiced his concern.

Haldir frowned and placed his own hand upon her other cheek. His eyes widened with shock. "By all accounts, this woman should be dead; so cold is her skin, like the snowy peaks of Caradhras!"

Nodding in agreement, Legolas unclasped his cloak and placed the piece of clothing around her tiny frame, hoping that it would warm her with his body heat. To his left, his eyes caught sight of a hole in the ground. With Haldir watching him curiously, he rose from the woman's side and began to investigate the shallow hole that had been dug from the ground.

"What do you see?" Haldir asked, coming to stand beside him to observe the pit that had caught Legolas' eye.

"It is strange... This pit; one could not have moved the earth from above—look how the soil scatters outwards. It is almost as if _something_ has dug it's way _out _of the ground. The hole far too large for one of the forest animal's to have caused it..."

A look passed between the two warrior Elves, before their eyes came to rest upon the unconscious body of the young woman.

"You do not believe that she—!" Haldir cried in disbelief, stopping himself short before he could utter the ridiculous words that Legolas was trying to convey.

The Prince of Mirkwood shrugged his shoulders, "I have seen far too many things in my life, not to hold those thoughts, _mellon_."

"Now I have seen and heard _everything_," Haldir muttered to himself, shaking his head.

"Haldir—"

Legolas stopped speaking as a groan coming from the woman, alerted them of her awakening. With the speed that Ilúvatar had graced them with, they were at her side in moments, awaiting the time in which they could speak with the strange human that had wandered into the fair woods of Lórien.

-

-

-

The grogginess that clouded her mind was slowly being lifted as she groaned and arched her back. Secretly, she was hoping that she had just been dreaming of the two glorious men that she had come across. But as her green eyes came into focus, her breath caught in her throat as two beautiful, stoic and expressionless faces loomed above her, blocking her vision of the canopy of rustling, golden leaves that lay above and beyond their heads.

Licking her dried lips, she spoke for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"_Is this Heaven?_" She managed to whisper hoarsely.

Buffy was distinctly aware that her head was being gently cradled by one of the beautiful men, much to her great embarrassment—or joy. Whichever way she looked at it, he was too jaw-droppingly handsome for her to form any semblance of coherent thought.

The two Elves exchanged confused glances.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I know nothing of that which you speak," Legolas replied softly, as he held her head gently in his hands, "Is _Heaven_ the realm you journey to?"

Her eyes widened as he asked this question. His voice was... _Magical_; like the sound of jingling bells at Christmas, only more beautiful and lyrical. There were no words she could use to describe it. However, instead of comforting her, it only served to increase the displeasing emotions that stirred within her.

She sat up stiffly before scuttling back away from his touch, using her hands and feet as the two men crouched before her. "If this isn't heaven, then where am I?" She asked apprehensively, looking back and forth between the two men, as if she were measuring their strength; afraid that they would attack her.

For some reason, this bothered Legolas. Not many feared his people—of course, there was suspicion and distrust at the magical quality of the Elves, but most races knew that the First-born held no thoughts for causing harm to other living creatures, unless their safety was being questioned in the process.

Her hesitancy only furthered his resolve to ease her mind of his people.

And so, he tried once more to move closer, only to have her cringe back further away from his outstretched hand. "We mean you no harm, my lady," he soothed as he lowered the offending limb, "You are in the woods of Lothlórien. Haldir," he gestured to his companion, "Is the March Warden and guardian of it's borders and I am Legolas, kindred of another woodland realm; Mirkwood."

His words did not have the desired affect upon her, that he wished them to have. Instead of looking comforted, she merely seemed more confused and disturbed than before. "I don't know any of these places," she said in a small voice.

Once again, Legolas and Haldir exchanged a muted glance.

Her speech was strange—the accent quite nasally, and the odd structure of her words and sentences only determined that she was not from any nearby realm. Legolas wondered if she came from a far distant country, long lost to the knowledge of Men and Elves. Perhaps she had lost her way, in search of the land of _Heaven_; a land that he had never heard of before. It seemed a likely possibility...

"Pray tell, how exactly did you enter the borders of this land?" Haldir finally spoke, looking at her with veiled suspicion, bordering on curiosity.

Buffy glanced at the other, larger Elf sharply, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes before she cast the two green orbs downwards. She knew that she couldn't lie to the two men. And so far, they had been nothing but gentle towards her, if a little stiff and cool.

"I'm not from here," she said truthfully, avoiding the question and omitting as much information as she could without jeopardising her safety.

If her thoughts were correct, from the visions she had received, then Willow had somehow cast a spell to revive her; only to have it backfire and send Buffy into what could possibly be, another dimension. The thought of her red-haired friend, only served to darken the features of her paled face.

Legolas and Haldir were quick to notice the change in her demeanour. They could sense the angered emotions that hovered within her mind.

"Yes," Haldir sighed impatiently, "But _how_ did you pass the borders? This land is still heavily guarded and I am surprised that you managed to sneak in. We do not let strangers pass through this realm without an escort—and that is only if the Lady of our woods bids them welcome," his voice hardened slightly, causing Buffy to wince.

Legolas cast a strained glare to his companion, "Haldir," he warned lightly, giving the March Warden a secret command to stand down.

It was obvious that this young woman was in great distress, and in need of their help. The shadow had passed after the war, and although many fell creatures still roamed Middle-earth, they had no master to lead them or guide them in their disharmony. He sensed no evil from the small woman before him, simply a deep, lingering sadness which engulfed her entire being.

"It's okay," she started quietly, "He has a right to ask..." She trailed off, squinting into the distance, as though her mind had wandered away from her body. "But please don't ask me to explain, because I'm not sure if I can," she whispered brokenly.

A frown creased the Mirkwood Elf's brow.

"If you will not tell me, then I must take you to the Lady of this wood. She will be the one to pass judgement upon you," Haldir reasoned. It was fair of him to decree this, since she would not speak to them of her origins.

Buffy looked at them, her curiosity intensifying, "Is she like your leader, or something?"

The two Elves were seemed deeply put out by the strange tongue in which she spoke. It took them a moment to understand her meaning.

"Yes," Haldir answered with slight amusement. "She _is _the leader of this wood and it's inhabitants; wise and all-knowing. If you are true of heart, she will gladly aid you in your trials—or something," he added with a small smile, thoroughly pleased that he could somewhat understand and use her speech.

They spied the twitch of her lips and could tell that she was equally amused by Haldir's effort to incorporate her dialect into his words. Though the shadow in her eyes did not seem to lessen. This piqued Legolas' interest thoroughly. Shaking his head at Haldir's antics, he rose, "We should return to the others, lest they begin to worry and come to our aid unnecessarily."

As he turned his head to path they had come from, the sharp intake of her breath was not lost upon his Elven ears. Legolas shifted back to face her once more and found her eyes had grown as large and wide as that of a new-born doe.

"Are you well?" He asked with concern, as she paled even further with his advancing step towards her.

Buffy stood clumsily and backed away further, "What are you?" She demanded, her voice growing surprisingly stronger.

Legolas frowned, "I am an Elf, one of the Eldar."

The woman looked at him apprehensively, "You're... Not human?"

"No," he shook his head, scowling secretly at the smug gaze his fellow Elf-friend was giving him as he too rose from his position on the ground, "I am not human," he added dryly.

"So, you're a demon then?"

The question took Legolas off-guard. So much so, that he almost tripped over his own graceful feet. "Demon!" He cried with slight offence, "I assure you my lady, I am no demon!"

The indignant tone of his voice quelled any fear and suspicion that had been slowly building within her as she spied his pointed ears.

"She may be right Legolas," Haldir quipped, folding his arms, "In your anger, you may find that you distinctly resemble one of the Dark Lord's servants. Perhaps even a balrog, if I may be so bold as to say."

Legolas gaped at his so-called _friend_, "Well, in all my life—I never!" He stammered as his face turned a becoming shade of pink. The grief he harboured from the past year seemed to dwindle at the March Warden's comment. "It is you who resembles a balrog when in the throws of an argument, Haldir of Lórien, not I!" He retorted, gathering his wits.

Buffy was quite forgotten as the two exchanged a few more cursory insults with another. To her, they both seemed to behave in a rather—silly, manner. And their pointed ears were not helping matters any further... It was quite comical to behold. She vaguely wondered if all Elves behaved like them—if they knew about Santa. If they did continue this behaviour, however, then she would rather that they bury her back into the ground, if only to have a little peace.

Her improving mood vanished at the grim thought.

It seemed too easy to forget how she had come to be here, in the strange presence of these men, or Elves as they called themselves—but all too soon, the memory of her plight once again descended upon her, to remind her of the darkness and burden that she would forever be forced to carry. Even in life after death.

She cleared her throat softly to catch their attention, which halted the childish barbs that they were throwing at one another, some of which consisted of Morgoth's balls and a balrog's breath—whoever they were, she was certain it was not a polite compliment to pay.

Legolas and Haldir actually had the grace to look ashamed of their behaviour. It was not every day that two prominent warriors of the First-born, embarked upon the pleasure of such mindless insults, in front of a lady no less. Well, unless you did not count the twin sons of Elrond, Haldir's brothers and a certain Elf balrog slayer, named Glorfindel. It seemed that the reborn warrior had developed quite a wicked, cruel sense of humour during his time in the Halls of Mandos; much to the dismay of Elrond and his advisor, Erestor.

"Forgive us," Haldir coughed, secretly triumphant that he had managed to coax the Mirkwood Prince out of his self-made shell, if only for a moment.

"What is your name, my lady?" Legolas asked, suddenly remembering his manners as the trio stood facing one another, silently.

She started at his question and frowned thoughtfully, "My name is Buffy," her voice was as soft and quiet as the flutter of a butterfly's wings.

"That is a strange name indeed," Legolas said unashamedly, hearing a sound of agreement fall from his companion's lips. "Buuff-ii," he repeated the name, testing the syllables carefully with his mouth.

Buffy would have laughed, had she not felt so weary from her existence in this new realm, "No," she corrected with barely hidden amusement, "It's not Boof-eey. It's Buh-fy. Buffy."

"Buf-ii," Legolas tried again, this time with Haldir participating alongside him.

She sighed with resignation, "Both of you have quite different accents, but it's close enough."

"Well, Lady Buf-ii," Haldir said finally, "I believe that it is time for us to rejoin our company and travel onwards to seek counsel with the Lady. Are you well enough to travel?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she assured them absently, "... Are there are more of you—more Elves?"

Ah, so that was the reason for her wandering thoughts. "There are..." Legolas confirmed, watching her reaction. Her face seemed to fall slightly before she covered up her emotions with the expertise of one of the Eldar.

"Oh."

"Do not fear us, Lady Buf-ii," Haldir said gently, "We are an honourable people and will do you no harm—"

Before he could continue, she interrupted him with a soft murmur of, "I fear nothing."

With that said, she motioned for them to lead the way back to the party of five Elves and one Dwarf, that were waiting for them on the path.

Now that they all stood at full height, Buffy realised that once again, her small stature was being dwarfed by the long limbs of someone else—this time Elves. She was certain that Elves were supposed to be small, but nothing could surprise her anymore; she had seen and lived through far too much to be shocked. Alternate dimensions, demons, creatures of unknown origins simply did not affect her.

But these Elves affected her more than she would care to admit.

They were perfect in every way, and that made her uncomfortable.

As she secretly marvelled at their great height, she had to crane her neck backwards in order to gaze at them with hidden awe. Truth be told, she was slightly envious of them and their inhuman height, their lyrical dulcet voices, the graceful fluid way in which they moved, and their incredibly astounding, breath-taking features.

And their skin seemed to glow with a pearly white sheen. _They're walking light-bulbs_, she thought with annoyance. Every time she cast once glance at their fair faces, it felt like she was being punched in the stomach by an extremely irate hell-god, in the form of Glory.

Beneath her musings, she felt highly inadequate compared to the beauty and light of the two Elves. It was certainly not good for her to see that an Elf-male should be far prettier than a woman... It just didn't seem right.

As she continued to think deeply about her two companions, both Elves were equally engrossed in their own thoughts.

Though they were loathe to admit it, Legolas and Haldir were deeply disturbed by her previous comment, for it seemed to hold much truth and weight to it. She did not seem to fear them, as they had thought she would.

Legolas wondered how one so young, could harbour such intensity in their eyes. As if the entire world had rested upon her shoulders continually, and did nothing but weigh her down at every waking moment. Her entire demeanour seemed to have changed from the previous curiosity of their kind, to the contemplation of her own thoughts and emotions.

Haldir, flustered on the inside, but placid in the expression of his face, nodded in acquiescence at her words before bowing and turning to guide them back to the path that would lead them to Caras Galadhon.

In a polite gesture, Legolas held out it his arm for the lady to take, but frowned as she seemed not to have noticed it.

So distracted was she in her thoughts, that she followed Haldir's foot-steps out of the clearing—completely ignoring, or forgetting Legolas' presence.

Legolas, unperturbed by her actions, straggled behind to retrieve the cloak he had previously placed over her.

There were so many questions he wished to ask her. Of her land, her people, how she came to be in Lothlórien—but he knew that he would receive no reply. And in truth, he did not wish to pester her so soon. She would speak of her plight in her own time, and if she did not, it was not his right to question her—unless she was a foe, cleverly disguised... But that was ridiculous, he assured himself.

However, whatever shadow haunted his steps, seemed to affect her all the more greatly. He had never seen one being in so much turmoil before—if he did not count himself. He could not help but wonder what horrors her vivid green eyes had seen in life.

Blinking away his troubled thoughts, he sighed heavily before turning to leave the clearing, casting one final, suspicious glance at the pit that had been created at the base of one of the trees in the clearing. Wherever and whatever her plight was, he hoped that the Lady of the Wood harboured the ability to help the mysterious woman.

-

-

-

"Elves," Gimli muttered to himself as he was held back for the _tenth_ time in going after his Fellowship comrade.

"They are taking far too long," he grumbled loudly, catching the attention of the five other Elves.

"Peace, Gimli son of Glóin," Tathar spoke calmly, "They will return soon."

"Yes, well—what if they don't?" The stout Dwarf argued disagreeably.

"Legolas and Haldir are seasoned warriors," Elladan said to the Dwarf, a spark of amusement igniting in his eyes, "Or have you forgotten this and taken to mothering Legolas, Master Dwarf?"

Gimli opened his mouth, snorting, "Ah, you mock me!"

"Nay, Dwarf-friend!" Elrohir cried jovially—though Gimli could not, for the life of him, discern the difference between the two twins. "My brother simply speaks the truth!"

"And what truth is that?" The Dwarf challenged, shaking his beard in warning.

"That you are worse than a mother hen," Orophin joined in, smiling with mirth at the two twins as he deftly patted the shorter man's shoulder.

"Aye," Rúmil, the youngest of the Elven party, added solemnly, though his serious face could not belie the great sparkle of amusement within his eyes. "All that is required of you, are feathers and a beak."

Gimli huffed and crossed his arms, "Feathers, indeed! I say that though you Elves are immortal, you will forever behave like children! Save for Lord Tathar, who seems to have more wit than all four of you rascals combined!" He motioned to the only Elf that had not humoured himself with Gimli's concern of the two departed warriors, "Feathers, indeed," he reiterated indignantly, glaring at the innocent, beguiling smiles of the four mischievous Elves.

"You wound us with your words, Master Dwarf!" Rúmil mumbled, deeply aggrieved—or appearing to be so.

The Dwarf grunted in disgust, "Children—you're all children," he continued to grumble as he turned away, not noticing the large grins that the two sets of brothers sent one another.

Tathar chuckled as he stood close to the muttering Dwarf. It amused him that this, short, irritable being was on rather friendly terms with an Elf—and a Crown Prince no less! But both were one of the Nine Walkers, and he could understand that a bond between war comrades was forged with great loyalty, and not one to be taken lightly.

The difference between Dwarves and Elves was great, but it seemed that the Prince of Mirkwood and Gimli son of Glóin, had put aside their differences. Even if they did have their moments petty of bickering. Tathar had been witness to this only once on their journey through the woods, and that was when Gimli had berated the older Elf for his gloomy demeanour. It seemed that the Dwarf held special privilege in being allowed to speak with the Prince in such a manner.

Tathar had not always liked Dwarves; he still did not like them, but he had grown quite fond of this particular Dwarf, in the short time they had spoken. He was a true Elf-friend, even if he was a little dispiriting and grumpy.

-

-

-

Buffy had been relatively silent throughout their journey back to the path.

Haldir had not realised that her location had been so deep in the woods, for the swiftness of his feet had carried him quickly to her previously raging side. She was more appealing silent and unarmed, than having brandished a fallen branch to beat the soil of his homeland. He cast a furtive glance at her from the corner of his eye.

He was still suspicious of her, as he rightly should be, but he was also intrigued. Many had heard of the Eldar, and it was rare to find a mortal that did not know of them, at least in legend. Yet this woman held no knowledge of their race, and for this reason, his interest in her was heightened.

She had refused to tell him how she had entered the Golden Wood, but it made little difference. If she was proven to be untrue, he knew that the Lady would cast her from their realm without hesitation. After all, she was one small woman in a city of Elves, most of them highly trained in the art of defence and war-fare.

That was another aspect that Haldir found most intriguing. Her height. She was shorter than any mortal woman he had ever had the chance to come across. Her head only just reached to the middle of his chest, and next to her, he felt like a great hulking, lumbering tree. He was sure that Legolas felt the same, for the Elven Prince was doing his best not to slouch his shoulders as he walked beside her silent form.

"Are all Elves beautiful?" She asked, finally breaking the silence that had descended upon them.

Haldir smiled as he cast a long glance down at her; he was impressed that she was keeping up wide the quick stride of his long legs. "All of the Eldar are equally blessed in beauty and strength, Lady Buff-ii."

She nodded at his words before speaking once more. "Please, call me Buff-ii," she insisted quietly, earning a raised brow from Legolas, "Where I come from, we don't use such formality."

Appeasing the Prince's curiosity, she turned her eyes once more upon Haldir, "I can sense it—you're strength," she said, more to herself.

Haldir frowned slightly, "And how do you sense this?"

She shrugged lightly, "Intuition, the way you hold yourselves."

"Ah," Haldir said, enlightened but still not satisfied with her answer. One thing was clear—she was hiding something from them, something she did not wish for them to know.

The break in the trees came into view in the distance and with his superior hearing, he could barely hear the grumblings of Legolas' dwarf companion. What he did not know, was that the woman that walked between himself and the Prince, could also hear the Dwarf's deep, gravely voice.

-

-

-

**Translations:**

Mellon — "Friend"

Eldar — "First-born"

Edain — "Second-born" or "Men"

**Added Notes: **I know that I focused a great deal on the introduction between the characters, but I felt that it was necessary, so please forgive me for this uneventful chapter. I also thought it was necessary to inject a bit of humour, since events will soon become very angst-y!

Things will be much more interesting in the next chapter when Buffy encounters a grumpy Dwarf and five Elves—four of which are extremely nosy and mischievous. Once again, comments or criticisms would be greatly appreciated!

--  
--**Kokki**--  
--


	3. The Gift Of Song

**Author's Notes:** If you wish to know more about me as an author, please visit my profile page :-)

I am surprised at the great response I've received from everyone! I am so glad that many are enjoying the pace and content I have established for this story.

**Thanks to: **_Mama T, Discord, NoLifeKing, Myri78, zephyrRS, Philo, Allen Pitt (_I'm not sure if they could, a palantir can only be used in accordance with other seeing stones, and I'm afraid that all of the remaining seeing stones are in Middle-earth... Thanks for reviewing!)_, Chaz1964, Renna (_I wish to keep the pairing obscure for the moment, but don't worry there will be someone... hehe; thanks for reviewing!I)_, magicharm, onlimain, annon, luckyAnn, Silme Greenleaf, rcagua, Amy Lee (_I completely agree with you! I absolutely cringe when I read some fanfiction that forget Elves are incredibly beautiful beings and have the characters interact as though they were 'normal' I certainly wouldn't behave that way, that's for sure! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far, thanks for the review!_) Alassante and Sirannon. _Thank you all so much; I love feedback!

-

-

-

_Previously..._

"I can sense it—you're strength," she said, more to herself.

Haldir frowned slightly, "And how do you sense this?"

She shrugged lightly, "Intuition, the way you hold yourselves."

"Ah," Haldir said, enlightened but still not satisfied with her answer. One thing was clear—she was hiding something from them, something she did not wish for them to know.

The break in the trees came into view in the distance and with his superior hearing, he could barely hear the grumblings of Legolas' dwarf companion. What he did not know, was that the woman that walked between himself and the Prince, could also hear the Dwarf's deep, gravely voice.

-

-

-

A small frown marred her pale face as she quietly listened to the deep guttural voice speak. It was grainy and hard, nothing like Haldir's or Legolas'—and for that, she was confused. Somehow, it didn't fit with the revered image she held of the Elves. Their beauty was far too refined for one of them to have such an abrasive, harsh voice. Whoever the Elf was, she felt mildly sorry for them—but for a reason unknown to her, she found the voice far more comforting than the lyrical pitch of the two Elves beside her.

As she pondered this thought, a gust of wind blew through her hair; she sniffed the air delicately and grimaced. She reeked—terribly. In the company of these two Elves, she felt incredibly inadequate. She had once thought of herself as quite pretty, not overtly beautiful—but slightly above average. However, walking beside the two Elves, she felt and most probably looked, more like a rag than a woman standing next to them. And those thoughts only served to make her more uncomfortable—and when she was uncomfortable, she fidgeted.

Her eyes wandered down to the bruised fingers of her hand that played with the soiled, black clothing, clinging to her small frame.

The ebony skirt was at a modest length, reaching to the middle of her calves and the airy black sweater covered her neck and arms decently. The sandals on her feet were another matter however—they were awkward and painful, as she continued to walk briskly between the two, overly tall Elves. They gave her some much needed height, but they were still rather impractical for outdoor trekking.

She sighed, wondering why her friends could not have left her in peace.

For some strange reason, as she observed the Elves clothing, she knew that this world's style and beliefs would be very different to the ones she had back home. Their clothing looked ancient, like that had just stepped off of a film set from the Medieval times. But there was something magical about them—something mystical that she could not quite pinpoint.

And they were carrying weapons.

_Real weapons._

These had caught her eye immediately, as her Slayer vision could determine with expertise that they had been crafted with a great skill. Even their weaponry was more beautiful than hers. But as long as they did not turn and use those weapons on her, she had no problem with them carrying such deadly items.

Although, she would be lying if she said she didn't want to touch Haldir's carved bow, or Legolas' shimmering, jewelled knives. It was as if the weapons were humming, calling out to her—and she idly wondered how they would feel in her hands...

As they neared the path that Haldir had spoken of, Buffy found herself frowning even more deeply.

Ashamed to admit it, she had thought that the path the larger Elf had spoken of, would have resembled a yellow brick road, like the one in Oz. Perhaps she was asking for too much, but she certainly felt like Dorothy on an adventure—only less clean, shorter and with a very high pain tolerance. That and the ridiculous fact that she was being escorted by _Elves_ and not a scarecrow or lion.

Much to her disappointment, the path was not even a proper path.

No yellow bricks, no fallen houses, no Oz—it was simply another way through the endless trees, with branches and leaves littering the earthy, moist ground. Still, even though she could not remember the name, the forest was undeniably beautiful.

The sounds of a scuffle caught her attention.

Her eyes widened as she saw a short man—shorter than her—with a bushy beard and dangerous brown eyes, wave an axe precariously close to the face of, what Buffy could only believe, was another, stunning Elf. Only this Elf had dark black hair that resembled the deep onyx blanket of the night sky.

Haldir had been right—all Elves possessed equal beauty; their inner light radiated such warmth and love, that she was continually left feeling breathless every time she laid her eyes upon their luminescent forms.

From her position, she could clearly see that the dark-haired Elf was goading the shorter man into fight, which was abruptly dispelled by another silvery-blonde haired Elf. Who resembled Haldir in height and body mass, but his eyes—his eyes seemed to be more softer and open than that of the Elf standing beside her.

She chanced a glance at her two companions and saw that Haldir was barely holding back his chuckles, whilst Legolas was glowering. Though the mirth in his eyes could not be hidden from her sharp gaze.

As they stepped onto the so-called path, all the Elves turned towards them, silent and unassuming. The shorter man had also given up his threatening stance as he turned and gazed up at her.

All six of Haldir's company openly stared and gaped at the small woman standing between the two Elves. Their bewildered expressions gave way to concern, curiosity and lastly, distrust and suspicion which were quickly hidden away with chivalry, before she could discern their thoughts on her arrival.

She cleared her throat under her breath, feeling more nervous than what she had been on her first day of high-school.

-

-

-

Legolas stepped forward to the gathered Elves and Dwarf, to introduce the young woman that now stood amidst them.

"Lady Buf-ii, these are our travelling companions; Elladan and Elrohir, both sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris," he said as he gestured to the only two dark-haired Elves, who looked exactly identical, that she could not tell them apart—unless she looked closely into their eyes. But she was afraid that she did not have the will nor strength to gaze at their dangerously beautiful, veiled expressions.

As Legolas spoke, Buffy but her lip and nodded apprehensively, causing the group of males to rouse from their stupor at the sight of her.

Elladan and Elrohir gathered their manners and bowed, still dazed from the vision of the incredibly tiny, and perhaps rather frail-looking female, standing before them. They shifted on their feet to accomodate her shorter size.

"And these two Elves are Orophin and Rúmil, brothers to Haldir and sons of Belegorn—a mighty and brave warrior in his time," Legolas continued.

Both of Haldir's brothers also bowed to her, touching their brows in a formal greeting, with barely hidden curiosity at her arrival.

At the mention of his father, Haldir had felt a small twitch in his lips at the praise the Prince had given his parent. As a son, Haldir could never have asked for a better father than his own, now gone into the West with his mother. He would rejoice on the day of their reunion upon the shores of Valinor—he could hardly wait for the day, as he knew it would be arriving soon.

Contrary to Haldir's content, Buffy's nervous energy was rapidly increasing.

The bowing and formality on display had rendered her speechless—especially when beautiful beings like Elves were involved. She had thought that chivalry had died out a long time ago, but in this world it was still quite prominent. She didn't know whether to feel honoured or wary for receiving such formal introductions with these people.

Her eyes travelled to another Elf and the short, bearded man she had not been introduced to.

The Mirkwood Prince caught her drifting gaze and cleared his throat to speak of the two remaining in the wings, "This is Tathar, a Warden and Guard of this land and son of Hírvegil," he waved his hand at the silent, golden-haired Elf.

Tathar stood slightly stiffly, yet appeared to be relaxed as he bowed to Buffy; no hint of curiosity gleamed within the features of his face. To Buffy, he appeared rather cool and collected—very much shut off from the outside world, like Angel had been... Though she could not misplace the warm hue his grey eyes held.

All the Elves Legolas had introduced her to, held such an extreme beauty and inner light, that she wanted to weep all over again. Buffy was not sniffely by nature—in fact, she hated it, she hated weakness. But the melancholy, yet peaceful aura that surrounded the Elves was seeming to affect her more than she wished it to.

Secretly, she was glad of the shorter man's presence. It kept her grounded to the reality of her situation and not the utter absurdity of being in the company of seven of the most devastatingly, beautiful creatures she had ever seen.

Finally, Legolas introduced the shortest member of the party and his dear friend, "And this is Gimli son of Glóin. He is a Dwarf Lord and one of my dearest acquaintances."

Not one of them could miss the fond pitch of Legolas' voice as he spoke of the Dwarf.

Buffy watched in fascination as the Dwarf bowed stoutly, muttering to himself about the ridiculous behaviour of Elves and their foolish fancies for running off without a second thought. She almost smiled as she listened the quiet comments. Yes, she could definitely relate to this—Dwarf.

Having never seen, nor been aware that Dwarves existed, she was surprised to find that he fit the general criteria she had of the species, in her mind. He was short and had a long, chestnut braided beard, with bushy eyebrows above two warm, cocoa coloured eyes. What she had not expected, was for the Dwarf to possess such an incredible body build.

He was musclular and quite strong, and he carried numerous axes upon his back, as well as daggers at his side. She had originally thought that Dwarves were supposed to be rounded, like Snow White's seven Dwarfs—rounded and jolly, not menacing and powerful.

It was evident that Gimli was a warrior Dwarf, and Buffy found that she could certainly relate to the small man in terms being vertically challenged. She could see it in his eyes—he did not like to be inferior next to the Elves, but he had no choice; much like her.

She sent him a small, awkward smile, which he returned with a bare-faced grin. Though she could see that he was still rather curious about her appearance.

"This is Lady Buf-ii," Haldir stepped in, gesturing towards her, "It was she that we had heard previously."

Buffy almost died from embarrassment as Haldir said this. She could not believe that they had heard her rampage upon the forest floor.

"I hope that all is well with you, Lady Buf-ii," one of the Elves spoke up—one of the dark-haired ones.

He could deduce that she had forgotten his name, and so he bestowed her a dazzling smile as he bowed once more, "Elrohir, at your service, my lady."

She blushed three colours of red before clearing her throat and looking at the ground—slightly overwhelmed from the high voltage of his smile. "I—I'm fine, thank-you," she forced herself to stammer quietly.

Unbeknownst to her, the brothers from Lórien and Imladris grinned at one another, even though their curiosity had not been satisfied—she was quite becoming, even if she was a little unkempt and unruly in appearance—and smelt of death...

They had, of course, noticed her strange clothing, but decided that it would be wise to stay silent on that matter for the moment. Although her clothing was quite revealing from the bottom, showing her pale, slim creamy calves and strange foot apparels, the top half was still modest enough for their tastes.

Her features were fair, and among mortals, she could even be classed as quite pretty. Thus, the Elves made their conclusion of her.

One aspect that provoked the company's thoughts, was the land she had come from and how she had managed to pass through the borders of this wood.

As if sensing their hidden thoughts, Legolas spoke, "We will be taking Lady Buf-ii with us to Caras Galadhon; she wishes to seek counsel with Lady Galadriel," he was being purposely evasive about the condition they had found her in. He did not wish to speak of the trio's private moment to the entire group, and that much was made clear as Haldir simply nodded to his words in agreement, not making an effort to add his own.

Six eyebrows, of various colours and shapes rose at Legolas' comment and Haldir's quiet acceptance, but none spoke against the small woman's wish to speak with the powerful Elven Lady. If the March Warden had deemed her to be safe company, then who were they to argue?

The Elves could sense no malice from her, even though they all shared the thought that they had felt a dark cloud surrounding her—but it was more self-inflicting than harmful to others. Of this, they were most curious and suspicious of.

They took Legolas' word and belief, and their own intuition, that the small woman bore them no ill will, and visibly relaxed.

"I am glad you that you have come back," Orophin finally said to his older brother, as the silence began to grow heavy around the nine companions standing upon the invisible path.

"And why is that, _muindor_?" Haldir asked balefully, catching the delighted twinkle in his brother's eyes.

"Because, Master Gimli was most worried for Legolas' safety and well being; we were likening him to a mother hen prior to your arrival. What say you, on this matter? Is this a fair comparison?"

Haldir and the group, save for Buffy, chuckled as the Dwarf sputtered, "Indeed it is..." He trailed off, looking up at the darkening sky through the canopy of leaves, before he sighed to himself. "We will have to make camp here," he informed them gently, "We can travel no further this day—evening approaches and rest will be most a welcome friend. We will arrive in the city a day later than expected, but it cannot be helped for we have tarried too long this day and I assume that Lady Buf-ii is weary from her travels."

Buffy tilted her head minutely at Haldir's words.

She absently wondered if every person of this world spoke such long-winded sentences to one another. If they did, then she knew that she would be doomed. Her thoughts drifted away as she noticed that the other Elves were pottering about, laying their packs upon the ground before going through the motions of setting up '_camp_'.

She had been camping only once—and it had been a disaster. She was not made for living in the wild, no matter how much Slayer blood she carried within her veins, she had always preferred her comfortable bedroom to the great outdoors.

With a helpless shrug, she stood on the sidelines and watched with hidden interest as the Elves and Dwarf went about creating a camp. A few wandered off into the nearby trees, whilst the rest remained with Buffy as they pulled out various bundles from their packs.

With no one to distract her, Buffy's thoughts turned to her friends and family. This place was far different from the heaven she had been in—but at least it was not Sunnydale. The shock she felt from being returned to the world of the living, still had not subsided and in her heart, she felt a great longing for what she had been torn from.

The world she was currently standing in was pleasant enough, but nothing could compare to the Utopia that had been her heaven... Salty tears stung her eyes as she folded her arms around her protectively, shivering slightly from the cool breeze.

She was surprised to feel a heavy cloth wrap around her shoulders. Turning her head, she caught the concerned smile of the Elf that had seen a brief glimpse of her grief and rage; Legolas. Before she could say anything in gratitude, he waved his hand, as if to dismiss her unnecessary thanks, and returned to his duty of stoking the small fire.

From the corner of her eye, Buffy spied the returning Elves and watched as they added more branches to the small fire, created amidst the awe-inspiring trees. She could tell that it was being skilfully contained between thick branches of wood, so that it posed no danger to the surrounding trees.

"Come—you must be hungry."

Buffy started as one of the Elves, whose name she had forgotten _again_, spoke to her from her left elbow.

He sensed her hesitation and smiled calmly, "I am Tathar of Lórien, my lady."

She nodded dumbly as he led her nearer to the fire, seating her next to Legolas, so that she would feel more comfortable with someone she knew.

It would be a lie for Tathar to say that he was not extremely intrigued by this small stranger. He could not help but wonder how she had passed through the guarded borders of his realm. But perhaps her short height had helped her to escape from Elvish sight. But that was highly improbable as the sight of the Eldar was truly magnificent and superior to that of mortals.

It was true, he could not feel any malcontent from her, but he was still as wary as he was curious.

He sat down on the ground, on the other side of the mortal—a mortal who wished for an audience with the Lady. If she was bold enough to ask for the Lady's wise words, then perhaps she was no threat to them. Still—one could never be too careful, even if the Dark Lord had been destroyed. And so, he resolved to keep a close eye on her, whilst also maintaining to see to her needs, be whatever they may.

Little did he know that the other Elves of the company had also sworn this secret oath.

She was quiet—for a mortal, from what he had heard of their behaviour... As though she was burdened by a great worry. Perhaps this was her reason for seeking the Lady, he surmised.

Her clothes were most strange to him as well, but he had never stepped foot out of his homeland since the day of his birth, and so, he was not the best judge of her attire. Though, they still seemed rather—odd. Much like her name. Never before had he heard such an interesting mix of letters. Her name sounded stilted to his pointed ears, but it was rather fitting—as though it suited her.

As Tathar began to eat the food that was offered to him by his Captain and March Warden, he silently watched the scene unfold between the Prince of Mirkwood and the mortal woman name Buf-ii.

-

-

-

Legolas sighed as he gently offered the mute woman beside him some food. She looked as though she had not eaten good meal in a rather long time—so he was resolved to make her eat at least a little bit, if not more.

He spied her reluctance and smile encouragingly, "It is _Lembas_; Elvish food—try it, you will find it most pleasing."

Like a small child she took the offered piece of _Lembas_ from his hand. He knew that the others of his company had stopped their motions to discreetly watch the woman's reaction to something clearly unknown to her.

Buffy shifted awkwardly under their secret gazes. So—she knew that they were looking at her.

As he saw her fidget under the others' scrutiny, he held back the sudden urge to glare at the staring Elves and Dwarf. But he, himself, could not help but watch her reaction to the food, so he was as much to blame.

Firstly, she sniffed the bread to decipher it's smell. At that gesture, the Elves and Dwarf hid their entertained smiles at her wariness of the unfamiliar food. Legolas too, felt a smile curve at his lips.

She daintily bit into the food and chewed thoughtfully. As the taste and flavours exploded in her mouth, he noticed that her expression grew surprised before it turned into a reluctant acceptance of the unknown food she had been forced to eat— which was soon followed by satisfaction.

Legolas was left feeling slightly pleased with her reaction.

"What is this?" Buffy asked quietly, much to the surprise of her eight companions.

"Waybread," Legolas replied immediately, "Melian, the Maia, knew of this recipe and it is said that she passed it down in secrecy to the Lady of this wood, though a few others know of the secret ingredients as well."

He watched her frown, much to his dismay. It was clear that she had not understood his words. He noticed that the others were also contemplating her facial expressions—they seemed to grow darker with each second that passed...

Legolas wanted to stop her thoughts. Whatever path they travelled, it was a dark road, one that he did not wish for her to walk upon alone. And so, he did the only logical thing—he forced himself to make idle conversation with her. "Do you like it?" He asked hopefully, pulling her away from her terrible thoughts.

She pondered his question before she forced herself to reply, "I do... It's very—tasty, unlike anything I've had before."

"I am glad," he said with relief. "Would you like some water?"

As she nodded, he deftly handed her his extra canteen that was filled with fresh water. She looked at the object with confusion, before he realised that perhaps her realm did not possess such items. Before she could protest, he unscrewed the cap for her and motioned for her to drink. She did so, with little resistance, and much to his pleasure, drank deeply from the mouth of the canteen.

It was at that moment, that Legolas saw her battered hands. In the darkening light of the setting sun, his Elvish eyes could pierce the shroud around him, to shrewdly observe her bruised knuckles. "You are hurt," he said softly, startling her and his fellow companions from their thoughts.

Buffy grimaced before quickly placing the canteen on the ground so that she could hide her hands under her legs.

However, Legolas possessed Elven reflexes and was much faster than she had anticipated. He caught her hands and gazed down at them solemnly, refusing to let them go.

Much to her chagrin, the other six Elves and Dwarf, also focused upon her injured hands.

"I'm okay," she assured the Elf next to her, trying to pry her hands from his gentle yet firm grasp. Her anger grew as he would not relinquish them.

"I will tend to them," Legolas announced sternly, yet kindly.

"You don't have to," Buffy insisted, "Really, it's okay!"

He frowned and cocked his head in thought. "Why do you refuse? You are hurt and you must be in pain... I do not understand?" His words rang true, for Legolas did not understand why she would wish to leave her injury unattended.

She looked away from his intense gaze, as though she was being burned by his deep blue eyes. Her green eyes focused upon the trunk of a tree and remained there as he and the other Elves and Dwarf of the party, continued to stare at her thoughtfully.

Sighing in resignation, he released her hands. He could not force her to do something against her will. It was not in the nature of Elves to force something upon another being. But that did not mean that he could not be concerned for the woman's welfare, if she was in pain.

Instantly, he knew that she was surprised by his acceptance.

Buffy could see that she had somehow, in her own Buffy _way_, offended or upset the Elf sitting beside her. Being in the Elves' company was slowly beginning to grate on her nerves she found that she could barely look at them in they eye without blushing bright red...

She had never been affected by beauty before, and had wondered why it was so different this time—but she knew. She knew that the beauty of the Elves was far different to anything else she could ever compare it to. That was why she felt utterly uneasy in their presence.

With slight hesitation on her part, she offered the Elf her hands as a sign of peace.

Legolas beamed at her and Buffy had to bite her lip in order to meet the delightful expression upon his face. It was as if she were staring straight into the great fires of the sun, so bright was his smile! Silently cursing herself for allowing the Elf to tend to her hands, she tore her eyes away from his tender, heart-stopping smile, to stare at the ground.

The Prince of Mirkwood was gentle in his touch. After he had cleaned her bruised and scratched hands, he applied an Elvish healing salve that had been given to him by Tathar. He knew that the other elves and Gimli were slightly troubled by her refusal towards his aid—and that only led their suspicions of the woman, to grow further. Any fool could see that she had been done a great injustice, but none knew the true extent of her inner turmoil.

Soon, he had finished bandaging the hands and was returning the salve to Tathar, when she spoke, "Thank you—for everything," she said softly, for his ears alone. Though he knew that the Elves of this company could clearly hear her words; he chose not to inform her of this.

In return, Legolas nodded and smiled, "You are most welcome, Lady Buf-ii."

She looked at him askance and he ducked his head in apology, "Forgive me, I meant—Buf-ii."

Buffy rewarded the Elf with a smile. It was a rare gesture upon her weary face, but it was a most welcome sight. Her eyes felt were too old for the young, but pinched features of her face. Much like and immortal Elf's...

"How did you injure yourself, my lady? If I may be permitted to ask..." A voice from across the fire said.

She glanced up and noticed it was one of the Elves that resembled Haldir. Her throat tightened at his glowing form, but she forced herself to speak, "I—I hit them accidentally."

Her excuse was pitiable and all the Elves and Gimli knew of her lie, but did not question her further. If she wished for it to remain a secret, then it was her choice.

To save her any further questions for this night, Legolas stepped in, "Would you like to rest? You look weary." He hoped that she took no offence to his comment, and much to his relief, she did not—instead, she nodded eagerly.

He laid out his bedroll for her and motioned for her to sleep. "Do not fear for your safety; we are all honourable people and will suffer no harm done to you."

Buffy he looked at him, with what he could only describe as, wry amusement. It was as if her eyes were conveying a piece of important information about... Something that he could not pinpoint. It obviously had to do with her safety. Did she believe that they would not protect her?

At a loss, Legolas sat beside her, as she lay down to ease herself into a dreamless sleep. Her muscles were tense and taut with hidden energy from the day's excitement and he knew that she would find no rest this eve. Unless..

Discreetly, he conveyed a message through his eyes to the other Eldar, and without resistance or hesitance—they began to sing.

A beautiful but slow, melodic song wafted in the breeze that gently swayed the golden leaves of the trees. Above them, the sun began to set and twilight settled with the first brush of milky stars dotted across the streaked, water-colour sky.

It was a breath-taking sight for Buffy, as she watched the sky from her position on the bedroll—content to see the stars appear in the darkening sky and twinkle as though they were trying to speak with her. Though, what surprised her to the core of her heart, was the singing of the Elves. It was... She could not express how deeply it touched her—almost as if she were living through the song, with the Elves that sang melodiously. Another _perfect _aspect for the ethereal beings; the gift of song.

Their voices, obviously made for singing, pulled at her subconscious and before she could stop herself, she felt the gentle course of tears roll down her temples as she gazed at the blurred sky above, with longing and a touch of bitterness. The sight reminded her of what was beyond her reach—beyond her grasp... _Heaven_.

The soft, gentle voices of the Elves continued on and soon, her eyelids began to grow heavy. The muscles in her body relaxed visibly as she was sent into a deep void of sleep—the dark abyss, welcome to her.

-

-

-

Their combined voices tapered off harmoniously as they watched the small, strange woman fall into a deep slumber, her mind resting and at peace.

They had seen her unwanted tears glisten against the setting sun and it had moved them beyond words. The tears were not of self-pity, but a deep, echoing grief that lingered all too clearly for them to feel. That action alone—her tears, was enough for the Elves to be convinced that she was a mortal, who's soul had been deeply bruised—by what, they did not know and perhaps, they could possibly never fathom the great injustice she had suffered. However, they still wished to know.

As they spied her sleeping form, the five Elves and one lone Dwarf, turned to Legolas and Haldir for answers to their endless questions, lest they burst at the seams from being uninformed.

-

-

-

**Translations:**

Muindor — Brother

Lembas — Elvish waybread.

Eldar — "First-born" or literally meaning, "People of the Stars"

**Added Notes: **Once again, more character development, but I think that it essential for the this particular story... And besides, I like reading about stories where the characters interact and grow to trust one another:-) Buffy hasn't spoken to Gimli yet, but that will be in the forthcoming chapter, along with many questions from the Elves!

You can easily see that she will be most comfortable in his presence because the other Elves are far too different for her to 'relate' to them. Although, there are many wounds to heal and someone will have to help Buffy do that...

--

--Kokki--

--


	4. Shoe Express

**-ATTENTION- **

I've been snooping around for a beta-reader for over a _week_, which is why I haven't been able to update, but I haven't found anyone! This is an advertisement for anyone who has the ability and time to help me beta this story. Please leave your e-mail address in a review and I will contact you a.s.a.p. Or, If you don't wish to leave your e-mail address, please contact me at: I need to find a beta-reader _desperately _and soon; someone who will be my evil consort and helpful muse :-) If you think you are up for it, let me know!

_marcus aure1ius: _Thanks. Like I said to TJ further down, this is not going to be a hero-worshipping story, though it's hard because (let's face it) Tolkien had Mary-Sues in his works in the form of Elves. I'm glad you approve of my writing style :-) it's hard to find a balance when writing from the view points of two different worlds.s

_buffylover: _Thank you!

_EresseElrondiel:_ Yes, it's good! Thanks for taking the time out to review, and I promise not to stop writing ;-)

_AnathTheGODDESS:_ Thank you for your review and your suggestions, I am currently looking for a beta-reader and hope to find one soon!

_BuffyAndDracoLover: _I take you love Buffy and Draco? lol, thanks so much for reviewing!

_Mrs. Pointy_: Thanks for reviewing, I hope you like this chapter as well!

_Renna:_ Thank you so much for your great reviews! They're very uplifting to read :-)

_rcaqua: _Buffy's reaction to Galadriel will be coming soon, but I'd like to develop more interaction between her 'travelling' group. I hope you continue to read and enjoy this story. Thanks for reviewing.

_Anonymous: _Thank you! I hope it stays good lol.

_Lisette: _Thanks so much for your review! About your first nitpick... I realise that Legolas felt the call of the sea before as I have read the books. However, I used some creative license and changed it for this story... So do I have a reason for not allowing Legolas to feel the call of the sea :-) And the second nitpick... :bigger grin: I completely agree with you! I do tend to use commas a lot and I'm not sure why... It's probably another reason why I need a good beta. Can you recommend anyone to me? Thanks again for your review, I'm glad to see that you're enjoying this so far.

_lucky Ann:_ Hi! Don't worry, the Elves will see 'Lady Buf-ii' as she truly is and their reaction will be worthwhile. Hope you like this chapter and thank you for reviewing!

_Myri78: _It might be Legolas... It might not. There is romance in this story, but it won't be at the very forefront. Thanks for reviewing.

_Silme Greenleaf: _Why don't you like Buffy? I do agree that towards the last season she started to grate on my nerves a little, but I am glad you are enjoying this so far. Thank you for reviewing!

_Q: _Thanks, I'm glad you acknowledged the fast updates! It takes a lot of work to get the chapters out this fast, it's nice to know people appreciate the time and effort authors make. Thanks for reviewing.

_Discord: _I'm sorry I made you sad::grin: but that was the whole point. And you're right, the Elves will want to stick around and figure Buffy out... She's a pretty blonde-haired puzzle. Thanks for the review.

_fan:_ I'm glad you like the Buf-ii pronunciation! I find it incredibly cute. I'm keeping the pairing obscure at the moment but we will see Legolas/Buffy interaction. Thank you for reviewing!

_onlimain:_ Thanks for reviewing. Character interaction and development is important to me; stick around, I think you'll enjoy where this is going.

_NoLifeKing:_ Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my writing style; I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

_TJ:_ I find your train of thought strange. You reviewed chapter three, and there was no problem. But then you reviewed chapter two _after _and made some comments which, although I find plausible, they just _don't _reflect my story. Yes, I made Buffy feel 'inferior' to them and I don't find it _ridiculous _that I did. In fact, I find it in keeping with the direction of this story! Wouldn't you feel inferior (physically) to the beauty of Elves? They're supposed to possess a beauty and inner light that is on another plane from what 'mortals' are. And I'm just expressing this from Buffy's point of view. I won't always have her react so strongly to them... Because the more she's around them, the more she will adjust and get to know them and _trust me_, I won't be spending the entire story glorifying them.

I'm not saying that Elves don't have flaws as _people_; of course they have flaws in their characteristics! I'm not ignorant to _The Silmarillion_ and I know what happened with Fëanor and the Silmarils _and _the whole bloody Kinslaying mess. Tolkien wrote all of that for a reason, to show that Elves were not as perfect as they thought they were, but they have learnt a valuable lesson and Kinslaying is the ultimate crime for an Elf. In this story, Buffy is going to find this out as the plot develops. She is going to learn that even Elves have flaws. Because let's face it, we're still only at chapter three and there's a lot more she has to learn about Middle-earth, don't you agree? I'm emphasising their beauty for a reason but there is no way that I'm going to turn this into a _gaga_-worshipping Elves story, as you put it. And I won't be following LACE (laws&customs) because personally, I don't agree with that aspect of Tolkien's work. Thanks for the review.

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Shattered Reflection**

Chapter Four:

Shoe Express.

**-**

**-**

**-**

_Previously..._

They had seen her unwanted tears glisten against the setting sun and it had moved them beyond words. The tears were not of self-pity, but a deep echoing grief that lingered all too clearly for them to feel. That action alone—her tears, were enough for the Elves to be convinced that she was a mortal who's soul had been deeply bruised—by what, they did not know and perhaps they could possibly never fathom the great injustice she had suffered. However, they still wished to know.

As they spied her sleeping form, the five Elves and one lone Dwarf turned to Legolas and Haldir for answers to their endless questions, lest they would burst at the seams from being so uninformed.

**-**

**-**

**-**

Dawn came upon them swiftly and before Buffy could register her surroundings, she was offered a light breakfast that consisted of various fruits, nuts and Elvish bread. She couldn't remember the name of the bread, though she was certain that it sounded very much like one of the Elves' names... Lemdar? Legmas? Legbas? She was getting close but promptly decided to forgo the game of '_Name the Elf'_ in order to eat the overly healthy breakfast that had been provided for her.

She did not notice how the group around her were quietly contemplating her sudden arrival into their fold. The previous night, they had been given the barest details of her appearance by the Lórien March Warden and the Elvish Prince. But apart from that, many of their questions remained unanswered as no variable information would pass from Haldir and Legolas' noble lips. It would seem that they were waiting for the Lady's counsel.

"May I tend to your hands once more, Buf-ii? The bandages will need to be replaced."

She jerked suddenly. With a startled expression, her eyes came to rest upon the Elf that had found her the day before. "Uh—sure... Lembas?"

He smiled at her attempt to remember his name. "I am Legolas. _Lembas_ is the name of the Elvish waybread you were given."

She almost blushed as the others of the group chuckled at her expense. "Right, Legolas," she nodded to herself as she muttered his name under her breath several times, much to his growing amusement.

Without preamble, she offered the tall Elf her hands as he crouched before her. She did not bother to look down at the damage as she already knew what the state of her bandaged knuckles would be.

Legolas unwrapped the gauze swiftly and proficiently but froze as her hands were revealed to his deep blue eyes. He glanced up sharply, staring at the woman in front of him with uncertainty and doubt. Refusing to draw the attention of the others Elves and his Dwarf-friend, he lowered his head and voice to speak, "Your hands are healed... How can this be?"

Buffy frowned as she pulled her fingers away from his grasp. She shrugged casually at the concern upon his face. "I must be a fast healer."

His eyebrow rose thoughtfully, "Indeed... Particularly fast for a _mortal_, wouldn't you say?"

"What are you suggesting?" Her eyes narrowed at the dangerously soft tone of his voice.

Legolas finally held up his hands in defeat, "I do not suggest anything at all, my lady. I am merely... Surprised to see one of the Second-born heal so quickly."

"It was just a few scratches," Buffy reasoned, "The oil you used probably speeded up the healing process."

She didn't know why she was making excuses for herself... But the truth was that she did not wish for this creature of light to know about the shadows of her past. A past that hung around her neck like a bloodied albatross.

Buffy wanted to feel unburdened by her previous life and forget the pain that accompanied the thoughts of her friends and life back in Sunnydale. There was nothing she could do. She was stuck here in this unknown place, a place where fairy-tales were made real and where _Dwarves _and _Elves _existed; she wondered what other creatures lived in this world... However, she _was _ultimately stranded and not one of her friends knew that their spell had worked and that she was alive—even if she was in another world.

One severe thought that entered her mind constantly, was about her birth-right.

She did not know if there were vampires in this strange world she had been sent to. Without vampires, demons and the forces of darkness to battle every night, her purpose in life was gone. Her destiny, her life... It all meant nothing if she could not use her unnatural abilities for the good of other people. She would just be plain old Buffy. And that frightened her.

After falling to her death, she had found a substantial measure of peace in the dimension she had been sent to in the after-life.

But it was too short-lived for her enjoy the reward... _Her reward_.

It was something that had been given to her and taken from her in the same instant. But in that instant, she had felt a moment of pure bliss. And now that she was torn away from it, she wanted it back. Desperately.

She craved for it—craved for the feeling of safety and peace in her mind's eye. Was it too much to ask for?

Was it so awful that she wanted to distance herself from this new world and bury herself deep within the great empty chasm that lay in her heart? It was in that particular place where she could recall the warmth and joy she had felt prior to her revival. It was in that place where she felt... Safe.

As Buffy withdrew from her surroundings, she did not realise that the Mirkwood Prince had been watching her with concern.

"Buf-ii?" Legolas' brow furrowed in thought as he gazed at the woman sitting quietly upon the moist ground. Her green eyes were glazed over, as though they were peering into a distant realm that only she could see.

Those eyes reminded him of a spiritless body—a body where the soul had fled from it's shell in the earthly sphere and all that was left in its' wake was a living corpse. He almost shuddered at her deadened eyes.

"Buf-ii?" He tried again, his breath catching in his throat as he turned her green orbs upon him. But they did not look _at_ him. They seemed to gaze through him—through his entire being.

He held his breath, secretly noting the strange looks she was receiving from his Dwarf-friend and the other Elves.

Licking his parted lips, Legolas tried again, "Lady Buf-ii!"

This time she blinked and focused her eyes upon his face. He almost breathed a sigh of relief as she looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Hm? I'm sorry—what?" Her wooden voice seemed oddly detached from her body, causing the Elven Prince to suppress the eerie chill that began to evade his limbs.

Legolas stood from his crouched position and gestured to the group gathered behind him, "We must leave. It will take us another two days to reach the city of Caras Galadhon and we have tarried for too long."

Buffy rose stiffly from the ground and awkwardly handed Legolas the bedroll she had slept on. He smiled encouragingly as he folded the bedroll before placing it into his pack. To her surprise, the others of the company greeted her softly before they resumed their journey towards the city, through the giant trees.

The muted looks of doubt and silent gestures between the Elves was not lost upon the attentive Slayer.

**-**

**-**

**-**

A quiet sigh fell from his parted lips as he glanced at his most trusted friend.

There was a great amount of sorrow present in his eyes, and much of it was etched deep within his hardened heart. The golden rays of the sun filtered through the gauze curtains, kissing his pale skin and silver hair as he sat upon an intricately crafted chair whilst his hand clutched at a golden chalice. The bitter resignation of his posture was not lost upon the dark-haired Elf.

The delicate scent of freshly blooming flowers permeated the air around them; jasmine, oleander, roses and orchids accentuated the faint sound of crashing water that could be heard in the stillness of the airy room. Neither Elf was willing to speak and break the silent magic that had wound its' way around their unmoving forms.

Finally, Elrond blinked and turned to his companion. "You did all you could, Glorfindel."

Silver-blue eyes turned to his dark-haired friend. He snorted softly. "But it did not save her and it was not enough to stop her from leaving," he grunted quietly.

"It has been over a decade, my friend. You must leave the past behind you," Elrond reprimanded gently.

"I loved her, you know," Glorfindel felt his lips twist into a bitter smile. "And she still left with that knowledge in her heart. She left me here... Am I a fool Elrond? Am I such a fool to have loved one so young?"

There was a poignant pause as the Lord of Imladris sincerely pondered the question. "She was young," he admitted reluctantly, "But nay, you are not a fool Glorfindel."

Glorfindel stared out of the open doors that led to Elrond's private balcony. "Then why did she leave? Why could she not wait?" The whispered words hung heavily between the pair.

"I have often thought about Celebrían's departure... I feared that I had burdened her in some way after the attack," Elrond confessed, "I feared that she did not love me as before. But then I saw the pain in her eyes and I knew that she could not remain here. I could heal the wounds of her flesh, but I could never repair the damage caused to her _fëa_. So... I let her go, with the hope that we would be united once more in Valinor."

"Forgive me, _mellon_," his friend murmured, "The same fate was bestowed upon us by the Valar and yet, _you_ have not allowed yourself to grow as cold as the winter frost, as I have allowed myself to become."

"We deal with our tidings in different ways," Elrond shrugged gracefully, swirling his goblet of wine absently as he thought of his departed bond-mate.

"Are you eager to take the ship into the West? Do not lie to me, I can see the anticipation in your eyes," Glorfindel asked, a sly smile growing upon his hardened features.

The dark-haired Elf Lord nodded once, returning the rare smile he had been given. "My time in Middle-earth is drawing to an end. I long for peace and I long for Celebrían." The smile on his face faded as he thought of his imminent departure.

"What is it?"

Elrond gazed out of the open windows, frowning slightly. "I am wondering how I will be able to tell her..."

"About?" Glorfindel prompted.

"Arwen." The Lord of Imladris sighed heavily at the half-truth that slipped past his lips. There was more to his heavy thoughts than he would allow Glorfindel to believe. He sank back against the comfortable chair that supported him, wishing that he could shut out the world around him.

The silver-haired Elf lowered his head slightly. Suddenly, his own heartache did not seem as great as the Elven Lord that sat across from him.

Rousing himself away from his troubled thoughts, Elrond reached into his robe and forcefully pulled out a wax-sealed parchment. "Here," he silently handed the folded piece of parchment to his curious friend—the sealed letter held quite a serious subject. He drank deeply from the goblet of wine in his other hand, gauging his friend's reaction.

"Tis a summons from Círdan?" The surprise was evident in Glorfindel's voice as he spoke, "He wishes my presence in Mithlond?"

Elrond nodded, a cloud of worry brewing within his eyes. For the first time, he spoke to his companion about the repercussion of the War.

"Under a year has passed since the War, but fell beasts still roam this land. Without a master, they are wild and unyielding; their groups are large and overwhelming. Círdan wrote to me a few weeks prior—he spoke of _yrch_ straying into the far western lands pillaging and plundering at will. That was how it seemed... At first. Then the mortal settlements of the far west began to fear for their very souls; rumours are spreading about the disappearance of men, women and children... Particularly men. There is an evil there that does not wish to sleep, even after the fall of the Dark One."

"What would Círdan have me do?" Glorfindel asked dubiously, raising his eyebrow at the grave news he had been given.

"You would not be alone, but he wishes for you to aid him in helping the mortals discover this hidden enemy. More Elves look to the western shore everyday and if the passage into the Grey Havens is unsafe, it will be our undoing."

"I do not understand," the silver-haired Elf questioned, "The majority of the far western lands have always been free from the shadow of evil. So why now? After the fall of the Dark Lord, why would evil spread it's way into those lands when it could not reach them before?"

Elrond sighed, "Sauron feared all that lay to the uttermost west of the mountains. He did not have the power to extend his shadow upon Lindon. However, with his downfall and the chaos left from his destruction, the fell beasts and creatures have no Lord to leash them together—they run wild instead."

"That does not explain the singular disappearances of mortals from the bordering villages of Lindon."

"True," the Half-Elf agreed. "Though I assume that it is for this particular reason that Círdan's summons Imladris for aid... Will you go?"

"How could I not?"

"You never could resist a challenge," Elrond surmised dryly, shaking his head.

Glorfindel chuckled lightly, the sorrow in his eyes fading minutely at the prospect of an adventure; he had been idle for too long. "You know me too well, _Peredhil_—you know me _far_ too well."

**-**

**-**

**-**

The group had been walking without rest for a few solid hours before Buffy began to feel the strain.

Walking and patrolling in comfortable shoes was one thing, but to trek through the woods in high-heeled sandals was a complete and utter nightmare. Her feet would not be forgiving her any time soon; she was certain of that.

A frown twitched at her lips as the group of Elves walked briskly through the magnificent trees.

The only two dark-haired Elves of the company were speaking to another pair of silver-haired Elves in a foreign but beautiful language. From their teasing tones and smiling expressions, she couldn't help but wonder what the topic of their conversation was. It seemed interesting but she couldn't understand the words and soon grew bored of listening to their deep lyrical voices.

Her eyes drifted down to the Dwarf walking silently beside her. Sometime during their trek she had managed to slink back to where the Dwarf was walking, much to the hidden amusement of the Elves.

They were almost to the rear of the group when Buffy had joined the interesting creature. She hesitated in speaking to the shorter man but soon found that her curiosity outweighed her apprehension.

"So... Wood or people?"

The Dwarf did not break his small stride as she posed the odd question. The other Elves found themselves growing silent at the strange woman's question. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the great deal of attention they were paying to her _private_ conversation with the Dwarf.

Gimli soon realised that she was speaking to him and before he could answer with propriety, he cast her a quizzical glance. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your axes," she said, pointing to them. "Do you use them for chopping wood or fighting? You look like a fighter so I was just wondering..." She trailed off in embarrassment, stopping beside him as the Dwarf halted his steps and gaped at her. It was funny how she managed to put her foot in her mouth, even in this world! Giles would be proud of her, she mused.

"My axes are used as weapons, my lady," Gimli finally said, grinning at her with approval. They resumed walking, quickly catching up to the Elves that had continued on their way.

"That's—great. I always thought Dwarves were supposed to be jolly and round like the ones in Snow White, but I guess I was wrong."

It took Gimli a moment to discern her strange speech before he could respond to her comment.

He snorted, hiding his laughter. "I assure you my lady, Dwarves are far from jolly; we leave that to the Hobbits of the Shire. We, on the other hand, are made of much more sterner and stronger stuff. Though we do have a penchant for craft and mining... And jewels," he added as an after-thought.

Buffy was fascinated. She was actually walking beside a real-life Dwarf! And according to him, they didn't conform to the standard statistics of Dwarves in her world.

"Where is Snow White?"

"What's a Hobbit?"

They looked at one another silently as they spoke at the same time. Buffy suppressed the urge to smile as Gimli chuckled wryly.

"You first," she offered.

He nodded in appreciation, "Where is this Snow White you speak of? I have never heard of that realm; have you met some of my distant kin there?" The prospect of having his kin spread out far and wide over Middle-earth was comforting to him, even if they were in a faraway land, unknown to him.

Buffy paled slightly.

How would she explain Snow White to him?

It would be a disaster... But she could at least try for his sake. Somehow, she did not think that he would be too pleased to hear that Dwarves were simply a myth in her world. She wondered how the Elves would react if she told them that people from her world believed them to be short toy-makers.

As she looked ahead to glance at the subject of her thoughts, she noticed that the Elves had stopped walking and were surveying the area around the 'path' as though they were looking for a suitable place to stop. She breathed a sigh of relief.

**-**

**-**

**-**

Haldir called for them to stop and rest before they continued their journey and Buffy was glad for the distraction.

The March Warden had noticed her discomfort and was surprised that she had not complained about her aching feet. She was much more resilient than her stature would lead him to believe. Though the shoes she wore were hardly practical for walking on uneven terrain and, not for the first time, he wondered if all the women in her realm possessed such odd garments and shoes. There was much he wished to ask her, but found that he could not until the strange woman had spoken with the Lady.

Meanwhile, Buffy felt extremely relieved at Haldir's call to stop. It meant that she would have one less thing to explain to the Dwarf.

"Come Gimli, I wish to see the beauty of these fair woods, in the company of my good friend."

Gimli looked away from her as he was called upon by Legolas to explore the surrounding area with him. The Dwarf scowled at the smiling Elf before glancing at her apologetically and promising to return soon so that she could inform him about the Dwarves of Snow White. She was hoping that he would forget.

Grateful for Legolas' sudden distraction, she sank to the ground and began the arduous task of removing her sandals from her aching feet.

The remaining Elves watched her from beneath their lashes with barely concealed fascination and curiosity as she removed her footwear. Their hidden glances and smiles at one another were lost upon her as she stretched out her legs and wiggled her unrestrained toes in the cool breeze.

In the end, Elrohir could not resist the chuckle that escaped his lips.

Buffy, too enamoured in her own thoughts to realise she was being laughed at by the Elves, continued wiggling her toes and feet to relieve them of the tension and soreness that clung to her limbs.

"May I?"

She looked to her right and found that one of the dark-haired Elves was sitting beside her and pointing to her shoes. Her brow dipped, not understanding his request. "Excuse me?"

The Elf smiled broadly, "May I look at them?"

Her green eyes narrowed. She had the urge to call him weird, but soon remembered that he would not understand their meaning. Besides, the curious expression on his face was endearing and she did not have the heart to tell him no. Although she was severely... _Hesitant _to let him inspect her footwear.

"Sure..."

He looked at her, tilting his head in confusion. She shook her head and rephrased her words, "You can look at them..?"

"Elrohir," he answered her silent question with a grin before reaching out for one of her shoes.

Buffy watched him closely as he lifted her sandal to his face, his grey eyes roving over the sharp contours with a thoughtful expression creasing his forehead. He fingered the small buckle with interest and tugged at the strap that would wrap around her ankle.

As he pulled the dark strap back, he released it from his fingers and found himself being smacked lightly in the face by the offending piece of leather. The other Elves chuckled as Elrohir glared at the shoe and Buffy found it hard-pressed to contain the laughter that was bubbling within the pit of her stomach. He acted like a child with a new toy!

Feeling bolder than she had been the previous day, she took the other shoe and laced the strap through the buckle, clasping it together. Elrohir had watched her with rapt attention before proceeding with the same process.

Once the task was accomplished, he glanced at her smugly as he presented her with the buckled sandal. "Tis like a small belt!" He exclaimed excitedly.

Buffy was hardly impressed by his antics. "Well done," she commented dryly.

The Elf almost seemed to pout at her lack of enthusiasm. "Do all the people of your land wear such tall and open shoes?" Elrohir asked finally.

She bit her lip, allowing herself to see the mental image of Giles and Xander wearing sandals. Coughing back a laugh, she shook her head. "No, only the women."

"It looks painful," the other dark-haired Elf commented thoughtfully as all the Elves looked at the reddened soles of her feet.

Buffy curled her toes in the soft grass to avoid their scrutiny. "Yes they are, the shoes are not made for continuous walking; they're mostly worn for show. It's kind of a... Luxury." She was unsure of how she could inform them about women's fashion. _That_ was a task that she was not ready for.

Elrohir frowned. "Why do you wear them? You must have travelled to Lothlórien on foot and yet you say that they are not for walking?"

The suspicious tone of his voice alerted her to the immense faux-pas she had created. "Well," she stammered, "They give me height. I'm not exactly the world's tallest person," she finished lamely.

As though her words suddenly made sense, he nodded, "Ah, I see. You are one of the shortest mortals I have ever come across."

"I'm not _that_ short," Buffy huffed indignantly.

"I think you are," one of the silver-haired Elves spoke up teasingly; Orophin.

Buffy looked at him icily, "At least I don't have your strange names."

The Elves gaped at her, clearly horrified by her suggestion.

"On the contrary," Elladan defended, "It is _you_ that has a strange name, my lady; not us."

She snorted and looked away, promptly ending the sudden battle of words that had broken out amongst the Elves and herself.

"What is all this commotion?" Legolas wondered quietly as he stepped out from behind one of the trees, with Gimli trailing behind him.

"Ask them," Buffy grumbled quietly to herself, "They're the ones who called me short. It's not my fault that all you Elves are so tall; you might as well be walking trees."

Legolas and Gimli shot each other amused glances.

The company of Elves held back their laughter, some shaking their head and others looking clearly offended, though the glimmer in their eyes betrayed them. The strange woman clearly had a clever wit about her that they could not place. She was rather outspoken and from this exchange with her, they were slowly beginning to accept that the tiny mortal woman posed no threat to them.

However, a single thought still troubled the lone Dwarf of the group. He looked at the small woman solemnly, "My lady, you still have not informed me about the location of Snow White."

Buffy softly swore to herself.

**-**

**-**

**-**

The harbour was a vision of serene beauty as the sun slowly began to set beyond the horizon.

Círdan, the Shipwright, smiled to himself as he breathed in the salty sea breeze. Soon he would leave this realm for the Undying Lands—but his time had not yet come. There was much he had to contemplate before the last ship sailed into the West; much he had to do. His expression grew troubled as his eyes scanned the expanse of the Gulf.

The shadow of Sauron had faded only to be replaced by his minions. There was still a great deal of evil that lurked within the land of Middle-earth, and much of it had found its' way west.

He sincerely hoped that the Lord of Imladris would heed his words; he could not, in good conscience, sail into the West and leave his lands in the hands of Sauron's marauding fell beasts. Something had to be done about the random attacks upon the mortal settlements that lay at the base of southern Ered Luin.

He refused to surrender his realm into their evil hands.

But he knew that his refusal would come with a heavy price.

**-**

**-**

**-**

**Translations:**

Yrch — Orcs

Peredhil — "Half-Elven"

Mithlond — "The Grey Havens"

Ered Luin — "The Blue Mountains"

**Added Notes: **Don't even get me started on Snow White ;-) More of that will be on it's way...

I took artistic licence in various parts of this chapter, i.e. the shadow of Sauron in the far west, the mortal settlements at the base of Ered Luin.

Also, from Tolkien's writing you can't specifically deduce the individual personalities of the Elves, so I added my own interpretation of them. I like my Elves to be mischievous and filled with humour, e.g. Elladan, Elrohir, Orophin and Rúmil. But I also like serious and thoughtful Elves, e.g. Legolas, Haldir and Tathar. In the next chapter, the plot kicks in and Buffy meets an even brighter '_walking light-bulb'_... In the form of Lady Galadriel.


	5. Bathtime Blues

**Author's Note: **Grrr... The beta I had contacted still hasn't replied to my e-mail :( I feel so disheartened. I couldn't wait another week to get my chapter back so I decided to post this without it being properly edited by anyone. Thanks to everyone that offered to be my beta! I will send each of you a personal e-mail to show my gratitude. Once again, I apologise for the ridiculous delay... I don't like to keep my readers waiting but what can I do? Please forgive any minor errors you may find, I'm only one woman ;( lol.

_Wolfete:_ Thank you for your critique. However I think there are some things we disagree on. Oh and perhaps I didn't make it clear, but I was simply having Elrond reference Celebrían as he spoke to Glorfindel about the pain of his wife's passing into the West. I know that it has been much _more _than a decade; Glorfindel was speaking about _his_ certain, special she-elf ;-) I will go back and see if I can make it any clearer. Thanks for the review.

Apparently, ffn has a policy against replying to a number of reviews, which I didn't know about. Because I don't want this story and all your fantastic reviews to be deleted, I will refrain from doing so in the future.

Thank you all for your amazing reviews!

-

-

-

**Shattered Reflection**

Chapter Five:

Bath-time Blues.

-

-

-

_Previously..._

"Tis a summons from Círdan?" The surprise was evident in Glorfindel's voice as he spoke, "He wishes my presence in Mithlond?"

Elrond nodded, a cloud of worry brewing within his eyes. For the first time, he spoke to his companion about the repercussion of the War.

"Under a year has passed since the War, but fell beasts still roam this land. Without a master, they are wild and unyielding; their groups are large and overwhelming. Círdan wrote to me a few weeks prior—he spoke of _yrch_ straying into the far western lands pillaging and plundering at will. That was how it seemed... At first. Then the mortal settlements of the far west began to fear for their very souls; rumours are spreading about the disappearance of men, women and children... Particularly men. There is an evil there that does not wish to sleep, even after the fall of the Dark One."

"What would Círdan have me do?" Glorfindel asked dubiously, raising his eyebrow at the grave news he had been given.

-

-

-

They were coming to the last leg of their journey, as Haldir informed them, and Buffy was more than relieved to be nearing the hidden city. After dodging the Dwarf's continuous questions about Snow White, she had grown weary of her companions' constant curiosity. She did not deny that they had every right to be fascinated and leery of her presence at the same time. After all, she was certain that it was not a normal occurance for a young woman to be found standing in the woods by herself, let alone screaming at the top of her lungs.

Buffy cringed as she remembered her vocal display. She was not one to lose a grip on her emotions, but everything had happened so suddenly that it frightened her to the core of her heart. To be ripped away from the comforting arms of light that embraced her, had left her feeling... Bereft. It was as if she had left something behind, a part of her soul, back in the grave she had clawed her way out of. Although her hands had completely healed from the ordeal, she still felt a tremor at the base of her spine as she recalled the moment of awakening beneath the earthy soil.

The suffocation, the ebony blanket of darkness that shrouded her, the utter _fear _she had felt as she realised that she was no longer safe, no longer warm... It had all been too much for her! For the first time, Buffy knew _true _fear. She had been stoically scared on many occasions, which was justifiable after the handful of Apocalypses she had witnessed—but those times paled in comparison to her awakening in that grave and endless eternity she had spent trying to to tear herself out from the earth-bound prison.

"Your thoughts are troubled."

Buffy started, turning her head to the right so that she could gaze at the owner of the voice. As was expected, her eyes met an elbow covered in green cloth that was unlike anything she had ever seen. She craned her neck upwards to meet the steady blue gaze of the Elf that had found her within the forest. "Sorry?"

He offered an encouraging, inquisitive smile, "Your thoughts are troubled."

She wrenched her eyes away from his perceptive stare as they continued to walk, never breaking their strides. Damn Elves. "I'm fine."

The Elf sighed, "You lie... It is said that if you share your burdens, your spirit will be eased from the troubles that weigh down upon you."

"I'd rather not, Legolas," she scowled. Ha! She remembered his name!

"Would you care to sing with me?" He inquired suddenly, "It will soothe your wandering mind."

Buffy almost found herself gaping at the Elf. "Thanks, but I'm not into the whole _Kumbaya_ shindig."

It was more than a little strange to be asked that question. To be perfectly honest, if she did sing she was positive that the Elves would go deaf from her jarring voice. She was not much of a singer—as her sister liked to point out on every occasion. Give her an axe, a sword, a piece of pointed wood and she would show him a thing or two! But singing? The mere notion of it filled her with dread. Well... She wasn't as bad as Xander, but still.

The Elven Prince was baffled by her words, "Ai, you speak such strange words Buf-ii! I know not what to make of them... What is this _Kumbaya shindig_?"

"Never mind," she sighed.

They continued to walk along in a companionable silence, before Legolas could not help but question her further, "I understand that speaking about your realm pains you, but I fear that my curiosity has been piqued. What is your land like? Do the people speak and dress as you do? Perhaps speaking about it would ease your grief."

Buffy glanced at him sharply, the silence stretching to an unimaginable length, "I don't want to talk about it," she said waspishly.

"As you wish," he conceded quickly. Legolas had resigned himself to the truth that she did not wish to speak about herself. Leaving the odd woman to herself, he bowed once before quickening his pace to join his more jovial companions.

-

-

-

The day drew on and soon it was time set up for their final night outdoors, under the canopy glittering stars. The Slayer had to admit that the forest was beautiful; nothing in Sunnydale or the entire state of California could compare to the solid tranquility of this world...

The group entered the wooded clearing and without prompting, Buffy silently helped her fellow travelers collect fallen debris and branches for the small fire. She could not wait to get to the city! She desperately needed a bath, a shave and she was certain that was going to start PMSing soon, if her moods were anything to go by. The cotton thickness on the inside of her mouth was uncomfortable; she would kill for a toothbrush!

Buffy blamed her broody mood on her current lack of hygiene. Looking around at the others to ascertain their whereabouts, she pinpointed their positions.

Good.

They were all busy talking to one another or had gone off into the surrounding trees to collect more firewood. Biting her lip, she did the one thing that she never thought was possible to do in her entire life; she sniffed her armpits.

The scent of sweat and stale dirt accosted her nostrils, "That's just gross," she muttered involuntarily, under her breath.

"Buf-ii?"

Her head snapped up guiltily. She caught one of the silver-haired Elves watching her; Tathar. His grey eyes regarded her solemnly, "Come," he gestured for her to follow.

Startled by the sudden action, Buffy scampered after the long-limbed Elf. His stride was long and his gait was tall and strong as he left a clean trail of scent in his wake. That was another thing about Elves that bothered her... They didn't seem to get dirty! It had been frustrating when Buffy had secretly neared the various Elves to sniff the air around them. The scent was not as awful as her own, it was slightly musky but they still smelt considerably decent compared to her, especially if she recalled that none of the Elves had stopped to wash or bathe. It simply was not fair that she had to suffer being covered in dirt and soiled traveling clothes.

She wondered where the quiet Elf was taking her. Aside from the morning greetings, she and Tathar had never spoken to one another in great length. In fact, she had not said more than a handful of sentences to any of the Elves... They must think her a recluse!

Finally, Tathar came to a stop in the small forest glade. The sun had set and currently the stars were brightly lighting the area, affording Buffy with a breathtaking view of the glade.

A small, heated rock pool had formed from beneath the ground, the water sputtering upwards and outwards to create something that resembled a mini bubbling jacuzzi. Emerald green vines twisted along the rocks surrounding the pool, dotted with pale snowy flowers that were sweet and honeyed to her nose.

Buffy frowned, waiting for the Elf to speak.

Tathar smiled sheepishly, "Forgive me if I presume too much, but I assumed that you would like to bathe?"

She was shocked, touched and perhaps a little offended. "Do I really stink that bad?" She said wryly, raising her eyebrow. Buffy could have sworn that the grey-eyed Elf almost blushed to the tips of his pointed ears. Or perhaps that was the starlight playing tricks on her eyes.

"I was not implying—"

"Relax," she said in amusement, "I was just kidding."

"I do not understand your words?"

"I was joking," she rephrased the words carefully, watching the realisation dawn upon his beautiful marble-etched features, "Actually, I would love to get rid of this disgusting smell that's been clinging to me for days!"

Tathar smiled easily and offered her a wash cloth from his traveling pack, "I will be in range if you need my assistance."

Buffy almost sputtered at his words. She refrained from asking him about what type of assistance he would offer her. "Where will you be?"

"Here," he pointed to small boulder that was a stone's throw away from the rock pool. "Do not fear, I will keep my back turned to you and you will know that I am here at all times."

"You don't have to stay, you know," she blushed.

He waved her words away with a flick of his wrist, "We are extremely safe here, being so close to Caras Galadhon, but one can never be too certain. It will ease my mind to know that you will be protected."

Buffy snorted, "I'm pretty sure I don't need protection." Seeing his skeptical expression, she rolled her eyes and promptly shut her mouth.

Tathar positively beamed at her defeat, chuckling as she grumbled to herself about the stubbornness of Elves and other creatures that were not known to his knowledge. Rummaging around in his pack, he handed her a stick of cinnamon—the edges frayed.

She looked at the offered gift with curiosity, "What's this for?"

"Your teeth; you dip the frayed edges in water and brush them," Tathar said absently as he continued to search his pack for another item. "Ah! There it is... Here," he handed her a vial of clear liquid and instructed her on the use of the substance. "Take a few white flowers and crush them into this vial, it will offer you a chance to clean your hair throughly. The scent is not as pleasing as it would be if I had been a female traveling companion, but your hair will be clean nonetheless."

Buffy chewed her lips thoughtfully. The Elves were slightly more girly than she had expected. Personal hygiene was a bonus in a man, but scented shampoo? Now that was bordering on fanatical!

Ushering the young woman to the small pool, Tathar perched himself atop the rounded bolder and faced away from the rock pool as promised. For a few moments, there was nothing but silence, until he heard a soft sigh and the rustling of fabric. A triumphant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Perhaps the woman would be in better spirits once she had bathed.

Meanwhile, Buffy had been glaring at the back of the silver-haired Elf as she quickly removed her clothing. Her only comfort was that if he tried to get fresh with her, she had the advantage with her Slayer strength and speed... At least it was good for something! If she had not felt to disgustingly filthy, she would never have taken a bath in the presence of the Elf. But as it was, she looked even worse than the time she had drowned and died in the Master's pool.

Sliding into the shallow pool of heated water, Buffy sighed in contentment. It was when she was in the confines of the water that she noticed the small stream meandering through the rock pool, taking away the dirt and grime of her travel as if it were a drain. A small smile brightened her features for a few precious seconds. Reaching out to the grassy bank, she took hold of her dirtied clothing and proceeded to wash them in the small stream that trickled out of the forest. Once that task had been completed and she placed her damp clothes upon the grassy bank, she surreptitiously glanced at her Elven companion and was relieved to see that he had not moved a muscle from his former position.

At least he was true to his word.

She began to relax slightly more as the lukewarm water lapped at her tired body, soothing the aches and pains away from her legs. Taking the cinnamon stick, she proceeded to wash her mouth clean and felt a spark of joy at the clean and refreshed sensation in her mouth. What a relief!

Half an hour passed by as she splashed around delightedly and washed her body and hair in the warm waters of the pool. The only thing left was to shave, but she knew that it could wait. For some strange reason, she never needed to shave as much as other women. Once a month would suffice in keeping her hair-free, and she knew that it had something to do with her mystical powers. She had wanted to question Giles about this, but found it too embarrassing to mention body hair within the presence of her Watcher... The world _blech_ came to mind.

As time drew on, Buffy could see Tathar's restlessness. She grimaced and finally stepped away from the shallow pool and wiped away the excess water with Tathar's wash cloth before dressing herself in her dried clothing, now undeniably clean and most pleasant to wear.

"I'm finished," she announced quietly.

Tathar stood from his seat upon the boulder and turned to face her. His grey eyes swept across her small frame appreciatively, before coming to rest on her tangled blonde hair. It would be better to comb out the knots whilst her hair was wet, but he was hesitant and loathe to offer his comb to the tiny woman... Well, he supposed that it was relatively clean now.

Coming to a decision, he reached into his pack once more and handed her his precious comb. Buffy accepted the tool gratefully and as they made their way back to the camp, she started the arduous process of de-tangling her wet hair. At least it looked much better than the magpie's nest it had resembled prior to her bath!

They entered the clearing and were offered intensely curious stares from the other companions of the group; they had now seated themselves around the camp fire and were enjoying an evening meal before Buffy and Tathar had returned to the group.

"Ai, my brothers! There is an actual woman beneath the dirt!" One of the dark-haired twins finally exclaimed.

"Elrohir," Legolas admonished softly, frowning at the impropriety of the remark.

Buffy shot Elrohir a withering glare, "Yeah, I'm a woman—yuck it up."

They did not understand her words, but laughed at the dry and humourless tone she spoke with.

Tathar and Buffy finally seated themselves beside the small camp fire. She found herself between Tathar and Legolas, much to her dismay.

"You look well," Legolas commented softly as the chatter between the group resumed once more.

Buffy cringed at her earlier behaviour, "I feel a lot better... I'm sorry I snapped at you, I guess I was feeling a little too grubby and tired... Probably just the bath-time blues."

He smiled beautifully, deciphering her words and causing her insides to quiver like strawberry jelly, "I understand, Buf-ii. There is no need to apologise." Legolas deftly handed her a large leaf.

She looked at the contents of the leaf and saw that it contained a piece of skewered meat. It was cooked to a golden brown and charred slightly on the edges, but it looked so delicious. She didn't want to know what type of meat she was eating, and so she stopped herself from asking the dreaded question.

Lifting up the skewered meat, she took a dainty bit and was surprised to find that it tasted extremely good. She took another bite; it tasted really good! There was some sort of mild seasoning and salt on the meat that tickled her taste buds in just the right manner. It had been the first time since she had joined their group that she had been offered any kind of meat. She deduced that it may have had something to do with the fact that they were nearing the city and that it was safer to enjoy the simple necessities of traveling; such as cooking and eating around an open fire.

Chomping away at the delicious meal, Buffy was almost shy to ask for seconds. But never one to let her hunger go unsatisfied, she asked for seconds... Then thirds and even a fourth helping!

The Elves watched her secretly in abject awe and fascination at the amount of food she managed to eat.

Unable to let the moment go, Elrohir spoke up again, "_Where does she put it all_?" He asked his brother, this time in the language of the Elves.

Buffy continued to eat, dismissing the conversation around her as she concentrated on her food.

"_I do not know_," Elladan replied in bemusement, "_But I do believe she has a weakness for meat_."

"_Aye, I would have to agree with you, Elladan_," Orophin joined in, continuing the conversation in Elvish so as not to rouse the young woman's suspicions. "S_he would not each much of the fruit and nuts but she is tackling the meat like she is a Dwarf_!"

The Elves, save for Legolas and Tathar, chuckled at the comparison.

"_What say you, my brothers_?" Rúmil said, "_Do you believe her to be a Dwarf in disguise_?"

"_She is short enough to be one_," Elrohir piped up. Another round of chuckles fell from their lips. "_It is a wonder and a miracle that she is so tiny_!" The dark-haired Elf continued.

"_You are right, Elrohir_," Haldir commented thoughtfully as he looked at the small woman from beneath his lashes. "_I do hope she does not eat all of the Lady's livestock. For I fear that if she does, there will be none for the upcoming celebrations_!"" Murmurs of amused agreement passed through the five mirthful Elves.

Legolas could not help but feel displeased about the conduct of his fellow Elves. The poor woman must be famished after not eating properly; it did not feel right that she was being ridiculed for her appetite. The Dwarf beside him grumbled beneath his breath about the stupidity of the Eldar and their need for speaking so secretly amongst themselves.

The Elven Prince was about to comment on their behaviour, when Buffy tossed the make-shift leaf plate into the fire and glared at the five other Elves.

"Did you know that it's rude to talk about someone when they're sitting right beside you? If you have something to say, I'd appreciate it if you'd say it to my face and not in a language I can't understand," she crossed her arms and glared them, waiting patiently for them to speak their minds.

The five Elves had the grace to be chagrined by Buffy's scolding—the offered quick apologies.

Legolas bit back a smile. The little woman was certainly a hellion beneath the anguish and sorrow that haunted her green eyes constantly. Satisfied that she could take care of herself, he turned wandering his attentions to the Dwarf that sat to his right.

-

-

-

California, USA.

"Little bit?"

Dawn looked away from the small blurry screen of the television. "What is it, Spike?"

"You worried about the others, right?"

She sighed and snuggled deeply into the lumpy mattress of the motel bed, pulling up the smelly duvet covers for comfort. "We shouldn't have left them."

"If we hadn't done, then we would've been killed!" Spike reasoned, still not feel right about leaving the others. "I—I made a promise," he said finally.

Dawn rolled her eyes, "Promise?"

"To Buffy; I made a promise that I would look out for you. It didn't include the other bloody Scoobies and I damn well don't feel guilty that we left 'em."

"Who are you trying to convince, Spike?" She asked softly, turning her head to window beside the bed. The room was cramped and dingy, but it would have to do until they reached their destination; Los Angeles.

""I'm not trying to convince anyone, bit. Least of all myself. I'm just saying is all—"

A knock on the door interrupted his speech. Scowling, the platinum-blonde vampire sidled up to the door and opened it a fraction.

"Spike! Let us in!" The frantic, but familiar voice ordered.

His brow rose fractionally before he opened the door fully and gaped at the four people that marched into the dinky one-bed motel room.

Dawn jumped from the bed with a surprised smile, "Willow! Tara!... Xander, Anya!" She barely concealed her squeal of delight as she hugged the red-haired witch. "How did you find us?"

"I did a tracking spell when we couldn't find you at the house, we've been following you for hours," Willow replied, looking at her best friend's sister in concern, "Are you all right? You're not hurt are you?"

"Yeah, those biker demons are a real piece of work, I'm just glad we got out of Sunnydale before they went totally ga-ga," Xander chimed with a small goofy grin, his arm around his secret fiancée.

Dawn smiled back and hugged the man, before turning her attentions towards Tara. Spike stood and watched from the shadowed corner of the room, quite forgotten by the others in their oh-so happy reunion.

After they had reassured one another that they were all fine, Dawn turned to Willow once more, "What happened? Where were you guys?"

Quiet looks of apprehension and guilt passed between the quartet, "Don't worry about that now, Dawnie," Willow placated.

"That's right, we're all here in one piece; no thanks to Willow's genius idea to perform that resurrection spell!" Anya offered brightly in a sarcastic manner, looking baffled at the reprimanding stares and glares she was receiving from her soon-to-be husband and his best Wicca friend.

The youngest member of the group frowned thoughtfully, "What resurrection spell? What is she talking about?"

"Dawn—"

"—What resurrection spell?" Dawn cut off the red-haired woman suspiciously.

Sighing wearily, Willow shot Anya another glare before speaking, "We, uh, we tried to resurrect Buffy."

"**What**!" The deep voice from the corner hollered.

"Shut up, Spike," Xander said in a dismissing manner.

"You tried to resurrect Buffy..?" Dawn cried.

"It didn't work," Tara added softly, gently stroking the younger girl's brown hair. "We're sorry we didn't tell you, Dawnie."

A tear silently rolled down Dawn's cheek, "It didn't work..." She whispered sadly, brushing away the damp patch of her cheek.

"I'm sorry..." Willow offered lamely.

They all jumped as a crash resounded through the room. Turning to look at the crushed bed-side table, before looking at the cause of the destruction. The vampire glared murderously at the stupid quartet of humans before him. Without a single word he stalked out of the room, not once glancing back in their direction.

-

-

-

"We have arrived."

Buffy held her breath as Haldir's calm voice spoke with reverence and peace. The mixed group stood upon the peaked summit and glance out at the breathtaking vision before them. A deep sensation of harmony sang within her veins—feeling completely at peace for the first time in days, since she had dug her way out of her grave.

The tree-city before her was majestic, inconceivable and unparalleled in it's striking magnificence. Tremendously large trees with golden leaves and silver bark rose high into the sky, dwarfing all others around them. Below the peak of the hill, a golden gate had been raised to grant entry to the people of the woods. In the dawning day, the amber and gold leaves of the trees glistened against the sunlight, beckoning her to do their bidding...

She was struck dumb by the sheer immensity of the murmuring city below, hidden between the trunks of the trees and the massive lower branches that did not reach the baby blue sky above. Buffy had no words to say, she simply drank in the fading enchantment of the Elves' city.

"It is a dazzling sight, is it not?" The March Warden asked from her elbow, pride oozing from his voice.

Buffy nodded, unable to form the correct phrases to describe how the affluent beauty affected her. There was no paragon that could match this... Except perhaps the one true moment of happiness she had achieved in heaven.

"The Lady awaits your arrival," he continued, "Let us make our way to the gates."

And with that, the group of nine companions slowly descended from the peak of the hill to make their way steadily to the golden gates that shone like a beacon against the burning jewel of the sun in the sky.

-

-

-

**Added Notes: **I was going to have Galadriel and Buffy meet in this chapter, but it was becoming too long so I had to cut it short; they will now be meeting in the next chapter. Things never go to plan, but I hope you enjoyed the silliness of this chapter. Thanks for all the encouraging reviews, I love to hear all of your views and opinions!


	6. Child Of The Earth

**Author's Note: **I am a bad, bad author for not updating in so long. Will imaginary sweeties get me into everyone's good books again?

Though holidays _are _a wonderful concept, am I right or am I right? Just had a great time with the kids and hubby in the summer, travelling around England, Wales and Scotland and now that I've returned home and settled back down into my job and routine, I am more than ready to get back to my writing! Of course, it's been over three months since my last update and for that, I apologise profusely, but I have returned and I hope everyone will enjoy the regular updates of my first fanfiction and crossover. I got a bit side-tracked when I started writing '_By the Sea_' and I have to admit that it is fast turning into one of my stories that I am most proud of, but this project will always be very special to me and I have every intention of completing it, so even though you might not hear from me in while, this story will be completed in the end.

Thank you all so very much for the incredible reviews, I appreciate your opinions! To those of you who have been kind enough to e-mail, I would be grateful if you could e-mail again. I had to do an entire system recovery on my computer and I lost all your e-mails!

Once again, this chapter has not had the chance to be beta-d so it might be a little rough around the edges, even though the spelling has been checked. Please be patient with me and my silly ways.

And so, without further blubbering from me, here's the sixth chapter!

-

-

-

**Shattered Reflection**

Chapter Six:

Child of the Earth.

-

-

-

_Previously..._

"It is a dazzling sight, is it not?" The March Warden asked from her elbow, pride oozing from his voice.

Buffy nodded, unable to form the correct phrases to describe how the affluent beauty affected her. There was no paragon that could match this... Except perhaps the one true moment of happiness she had achieved in heaven.

"The Lady awaits your arrival," he continued, "Let us make our way to the gates."

And with that, the group of nine companions slowly descended from the peak of the hill to make their way steadily to the golden gates that shone like a beacon against the burning jewel of the sun in the sky.

-

-

-

There was something wrong.

_Very_ wrong.

She shifted uncomfortably as the group made their way down the grassy slope, towards the golden gates that twinkled brightly in the soft rays of the sun. It was there—that feeling at the bottom of her stomach and she found that she could no longer ignore the sensation. The heavy weight that pressed down oppressively on her stomach, caused her to wince as her skin heated uncomfortably against the balmy breeze.

Buffy sighed. There was no denying it.

She needed to use the _toilet_. _Really_ use the toilet.

Briefly, Buffy wondered if the Elves even had toilets. She hoped they did. She was tired of squatting in the bushes like a savage. But she had never needed to actually _go _since before this moment She suspected that the previous night's meat had something to do with... _Ew_. Shuddering and placing her hand against her stomach she started down the slope that led towards the gates, and hopefully a toilet with indoor plumbing.

As they approached the gates, Buffy realised that there were two Elves standing on either side, both clad in ancient looking armour that reminded her of the pre-medieval times. They wore no helmets, but the cut of their armour indicated that it was more for show than for fighting. Again, these Elves were also beautiful.

There was no difference of beauty between the Elves Buffy had travelled with and the two guards that were currently inspecting her with curiosity and suspicion. If all Elves were the same in beauty, grace and poise, then Buffy felt that the effect they had on her would wear off pretty quickly. But still, it was quite a sight to see _more_ handsome Elves. It was rather like being at an all-you-can-eat man buffet. Buy two, get one free. And if the men were anything to go by, she dreaded to see what the females looked like.

However, on more than one occasion, she noticed that the Elves never seemed to be aware of their own beauty, or the impact it may have on other people who were not Elves. Their beauty was as natural to them as the gentle fall of rain, the blossoming of a flower or the milky stars they coveted at night. It made it all the more difficult to dislike them. Damn Elves.

Buffy looked on in mild interest as Haldir spoke with the two sentinel guards; she knew that he was using the language of the Elves—she had heard it many times in the endless days she had spent with her travelling group. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. Fluid and entrancing, alluring and beguiling. Absolutely... Captivating.

She started from her thoughts and looked up as the gates were magically opened by an unseen force. Her lips parted in awe at the magnificent sight. The gates were ten times the height of the Elves; how could they move by themselves! After what felt like an eternity, Buffy blinked as she felt fingers upon her chin. She turned minutely and saw that one of the dark-haired twins was gently closing her gaping mouth with the pads of his fingers. He grinned exquisitely and winked before following the rest of his Elven companions through the parted gates.

Shaking her head from her stupor, Buffy quickened her pace to follow the other Elves. She did not notice the disguised stares she received from the two sentinel guards. Realising that it was now or never, the Slayer walked quickly and sidled up to Haldir as he led the group from the front.

She deftly nudged his side, clearing her throat to gain his attention.

"May I be of assistance, Buf-ii?" He asked with amusement glittering in his liquid blue eyes.

"Uh... How long will it be before we get to the city?"

"We _are_ in the city of Caras Galadhon," he said, clearly baffled.

As they continued to walk at an even pace, Buffy felt her frustration grow. "How? We're still in a forest!"

"Aye, the city is built amidst the trees."

Buffy grew dismayed. That meant no toilets... But still, she would force herself to ask him. "I need to use the bathroom."

Haldir's brow furrowed, "Do not be alarmed, you will be given leave to bathe before your meeting with the Lady."

The Slayer did not know that her conversation with the Marchwarden was being carefully listened to by the other Elves. Legolas in particular, tried to ignore their words but he always found it fascinating when the tiny woman spoke. She rarely did so and when she did speak, it was delightful to hear her strange phrases and quips that baffled him completely. As an Elf, he enjoyed piecing together a complicated puzzle. Like the _shindig_ she had spoken of. He liked that word... _Shin-dig_. It had the most wondrous ring to it! He wondered what it could be and was incredibly disappointed that their new companion had not expressed its' true meaning.

Meanwhile, Buffy was at the point of tearing her hair out as she tried to make Haldir understand what she wanted. "**No**," she urged for the tenth time, "I don't want a bath!"

Haldir seemed to be at odds with her confusing requests. "I do not understand?" He frowned, "You wish to use the bath room and the concept of your bath room is not to bathe? I am at a loss, Buf-ii."

Buffy wracked her brain for the right words, her eyes darting around nervously as she tried to explain her needs. "I... I need to," she lowered her voice, "I need to relieve myself."

The Marchwarden's eyes widened with understanding. Finally. "Ah."

"Well..?" She prompted impatiently as his voice trailed off.

Haldir's steps slowed as he thought of possible solutions. One was to continue towards the centre of Caras Galadhon and the other was to allow the tiny woman to relieve herself in amidst the great mallorn trees. At least she would be well shrouded, and the city was guarded enough to allow her further out for added privacy. It would have to do, he thought to himself wryly. Gradually, as he made his decision and came to halt, the others of his travelling company followed his lead as they too had been inconspicuously listening to the conversation.

"The woods are quite private, Buf-ii, if you wish to... Go." There was something he never thought he would say. If her discomfort had not been apparent, he would have been thoroughly amused by the situation. As it was, he was desperately trying to stop himself from taking advantage of the situation.

Buffy gritted her teeth in embarrassment, "Fine."

But as soon as she turned to move off the path, Haldir could not help himself and so allowed his hand to catch her arm politely, "Allow me to accompany you and show you the adequate foliage to use. I would not wish you further discomfort in the wrong area," his eyes twinkled merrily.

She caught the expression but refused to be goaded by his obvious amusement. Without a word, she pulled her arm from his grasp and veered off the path, weaving in and out of the trees so that she could distance herself from the annoying Elf. She knew that he was following and she allowed it because he was right to pursue her. It would have been mortifying if she had used the wrong kind leaf to wipe... Buffy rolled her eyes as her thoughts seemed to drift away from her.

It would be better for her if she remained alert.

-

-

-

"That was impolite, Haldir," Legolas exclaimed as the Marchwarden returned from escorting their newest travelling companion. The Prince of Mirkwood turned to glare at Elrohir, who was guffawing with great excitement and gusto at the situation and Legolas' obvious disapproval. His blue eyes narrowed as the dark-haired Elf tried to rein in his laughter.

"It was all done in jest," Orophin commented with a poorly hidden grin.

Legolas' eyes snapped towards the Marchwarden's brother. "It was rude and uncalled for." Though he did not know it, Tathar secretly agreed with Legolas' views and was infinitely disappointed by his leader's uncouth behaviour.

"Oh come now, surely you can see the humorous side of things!" Haldir insisted as his brothers and the Imladris twins tried to subside their sniggers.

Legolas was unable to reply as Buffy stepped out onto the path. He thanked Varda's stars that they had been conversing in Sindarin; at least it would save Buffy from any further embarrassment. But at that particular moment, though her cheeks were stained red, she looked more annoyed than embarrassed. As it was, Gimli and the other Elves had no choice but to follow her down the faded path as she walked away without a single word or glance in their direction.

Legolas was concerned by her behaviour, but Haldir and the other Elves merely glanced at one another with large grins before following the dusty trail left by the angry woman.

The Prince of Mirkwood knitted his eyebrows wearily as his Dwarf friend patted his arm before following the others of their travelling company.

-

-

-

"She is coming, Celeborn."

His wife's lucid voice spoke out softly against the sultry afternoon. "How soon?" He asked quietly.

Galadriel smiled radiantly, "Soon."

Celeborn could not help but return the gesture. Her expressions were unique in every way. They reminded him of the gentle sigh of an autumn breeze—of the rustling amber leaves that now blanketed Lothlórien's rich soil. O, how blessed was he to lay claim upon such a wife! Her beauty and wisdom knew no bounds. Her presence was akin to the sun and moon; untouchable and indefinable.

Galadriel's smile widened, her cheeks dimpling attractively as she laughed. "Why do look at me thus?" She questioned teasingly.

"Because you are beautiful; _melin ceni chîn gîn sílar ir galadach_." Celeborn chuckled as her eyes gleamed with pride and adoration.

"I could say the same to you, _herven vuin_," she countered softly.

The Lord of Lothlórien bowed. "I humbly accept and approve of your attentions."

His words only furthered her laughter. But soon, the time for joy had passed as her eyes misted with concern. As she took his hand within hers he allowed himself to be led to the balcony of their _talan_. The air outside was sweet with a fragrance that could only be described as unique. The land of Lórien differed greatly from the other realms of Middle-earth. Everything was different—the vegetation, the fruit that the trees yielded in springtime... Yet Celeborn knew that some things in Lórien were akin to Valinor. It was a reflection of his wife's first home. In truth, he knew that Galadriel did not consider Lothlórien as her true home. It was simply a temporary abode. In his heart of hearts, Celeborn knew that the time of his wife's departure was nearing—where she would move on to her _true_ home.

The question that plagued him, however, was his own indecision. Could he leave Middle-earth? It was the only home he had ever known in his long life, next to Doriath... And he was loathe to depart from it. He had already tried to bury the past of Beleriand and Doriath, he wondered if he could do the same again.

The Lothlórien Lord was roused from his thoughts by his wife's lips upon the slope of his cheek. The understanding in her eyes told him what he had feared all along; her knowledge of his indecision. It pained him to know that regardless of his own choice, she would be leaving soon. And his heart ached with this foreknowledge.

"Do not let your heart be troubled by that which is inevitable," Galadriel murmured gently, her star-filled eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"The inevitable will always be a burden to me, my heart."

"_Gen melin_."

"_Gerich veleth nîn_." The words seemed to be lodged within the column of his throat, but he forced them out with such conviction and passion that Galadriel was reminded as to how deeply she loved the kingly _ellon_ before her.

She blinked slowly and looked downwards. Though she could see nothing but the golden and amber leaves of her beloved _mellyrn_, the corners of her mouth turned upwards with wry amusement. "Come," she said to her husband, "Let us deal with one problem at a time."

Celeborn smiled in response, "My lady is most wise."

Galadriel took her husband's arm and kissed his cheek reassuringly as he led her towards the formal greeting halls.

It was going to be and interesting afternoon and evening. There was no doubt about that.

-

-

-

Buffy gaped at the enormous wooden staircase that wound itself upwards and around the wide girth of the tree. She had to crane her neck backwards as she followed the staircase up with her sharp green eyes. And even then, she could not make out the top of the tree. It was as if the staircase was never-ending!

Several moments later, she realised that most of the trees around her now boasted their own staircases. The hairs of the back of her neck seemed to prickle and with her Slayer sense, she knew that she was being watched. Whether it was an evil presence or good, she wasn't sure. But she knew that she would be ready to defend herself.

Licking her lips, Buffy gulped as she continued to look up at the gargantuan tree. It was like a sky scraper... Only wooden.

It wasn't that she was afraid of heights... It was just the teensy fact that she wasn't too keen on getting vertigo if she happened to look down.

The others didn't seem to notice her hesitancy, or they simply did not acknowledge it. In the end, she was nudged by Legolas to follow Haldir and the other Elves up the endless staircase. With a soft snort, she headed forward with determination. Thoughts of strangling the person responsible for the current mess she was in reined supreme within her mind.

Willow.

Or was it truly her best friend's fault? She knew that the red-head had simply wanted Buffy back again... Back amongst the living. She was sure that it could not have been Willow's intention to send her to this weird place. So whose fault was it? With certainty, Buffy could say that a higher being was definitely involved. But who... A God? The Powers?

She sighed in resignation, barely registering that she was already a quarter of the way the stairs. But in the back of her mind, she knew not to look down.

Trying to occupy and keep herself from looking down, the Slayer began to hum and sing the annoying tune that had suddenly popped up in her head. _'I like to move it, move it. I like to move, move it. I like to... Move it! And again! I like to move it, move it. I like to move it, move it. I like to... Move it!'_

-

-

-

After what felt like hours, they finally veered off of the enormous staircase and onto a connecting bridge that steeped upwards and away from the large trunk of the tree. To Buffy, it was basically another set of stairs. But instead of being safely connected to the tree trunk, this steep stairway was held up in mid-air by thin silvery ropes that were wound around the trunk and a distant branch. It did not look safe and for the first time, she felt hesitant to follow the other Elves.

She noticed Gimli was also having a serious case of the wiggins. To her surprise, she and Gimli were nudged forward by Legolas. He smiled warmly at them before following his fellow Elves up the steep bridge. Or staircase, in Buffy's mind.

Gimli looked at her with a resigned expression and Buffy returned the sentiment with equal passion. After a few moments, the Dwarf spoke gruffly, "I have been on this flimsy contraption before, lass. It was the worst moment of my life that I have ever endured. You can give me trolls, goblins, orcs, uruk-hai and I will be a happy Dwarf! But to make myself walk over that thing takes a courage I fear I do not possess..." He shook his head. "It is a good thing that on the other side of that bridge, awaits the finest treasure in Middle-earth."

For some reason, Buffy knew he wasn't talking about actual treasure. She blinked as Gimli uttered a low growl and moved off at a run across the bridge.

As she watched him run up and across, Buffy took a deep breath and followed. She was the Slayer for god's sake! She wasn't afraid of heights in the slightest... It was just the idea of falling off that bothered her a little. Soon enough, she and Gimli reached the other side and walked through a pair of the softest curtains Buffy had ever felt. As they stepped into a small parlour, they were greeted with several amused glances from their Elven travelling companions. Both Dwarf and Slayer responded with glares that promised a swift doom if one word was spoken to them out of turn.

Silently, Buffy examined her surroundings.

They were standing on a polished floor, inside what Buffy assumed was some sort of large tree-house. There were no walls in the 'lobby' where they stood, only white gauze curtains that separated the structure from its' surroundings. She found it interesting that she couldn't see through the curtains even though they were made of sheer fabric. It was suspiciously odd.

As she looked up, she could see that the ceiling was made from thick intricately woven branches and twigs that formed the frame and structure of the tree-house. It didn't look safe to her, but the aged dark wood comforted her nerves into concluding that this particular tree-house had been around for a while.

Haldir turned to her. "Buffy, you will wait here."

Clearly, he had not made a request and so nodded complacently as Gimli and the other Elves walked through the parting in one of the walled curtains. From the corner of her eye, she noted that she had not been left alone. An Elf armoured in full regalia was standing in the corner of the room, trying not to look at her curiously. He did not move an inch but Buffy could feel his eyes scan her face as though she were some kind of enigma. It was unsettling and the silence of the Elf made her feel awkward.

She was guessing that he wasn't allowed to talk to her. Either that, or he had some serious issues regarding the darting of his spectacular eyes.

Sighing to herself, Buffy spied a cushioned velvet stool beside the Elf and moved to sit on it. She had an idea that Haldir would take quite a while to return and there was no harm in giving her tired feet a reprieve from the hard walk up those damn stairs.

-

-

-

Haldir stepped quietly into the Great Hall.

The Hall was a large room in which the Lord and Lady greeted their newly arrived guests on a regular basis. It was all for pomp and ceremony though Haldir knew that the bonded couple preferred a much more intimate setting when dealing with close friends and acquaintances. However, Legolas was in their presence and as a Prince to his father's realm, he deserved to be greeted in a manner befitting a Royal. Although Haldir knew that Legolas held no such expectations in being treated with deference. More likely, it was King Thranduil that forced his son to accept the respect and honour that was bestowed upon the Prince. After all, a Royal had to behave like a Royal.

The Marchwarden could accept King Thranduil's view in this, but he sometimes wished that the King would not force his views onto his only son. It only made Legolas more determined to shy away from court life and the expectations of his people.

Sighing, he walked further down into the hall before stepping nearer to the glowing dais of the Lord and Lady. He bowed low on one knee, keeping his head down with due respect.

He could feel the Lady's gentle smile upon his form.

"_Mae govannen_. It has been too long, my Marchwarden," the Lady's soft voice carried throughout the large hall, weaving into every living fibre of the room, effusing into his mind from the sweetness of her words.

He rose slowly to his feet with his own smile upon his fair face. "It is good to be home, my lady."

"Welcome, Haldir. I am glad to learn that you will be staying in Caras Galadhon for more than a few days," Lord Celeborn interjected with his own glinted, amused expression.

"Indeed! Even a Marchwarden of Haldir's calibre needs respite and recovery from the toils of his duty." Haldir's smile broadened as Lady Galadriel spoke.

He chuckled, "Aye my lady, but my duty to you is a blessing. There is no toil that I am burdened with when in your service."

Lady Galadriel laughed. "You have a way with words Haldir! Be careful, or Celeborn may assume that you wish to woo me."

"Woo away, Haldir. Woo away!" Lord Celeborn exclaimed heartily, flapping his hand disinterestedly.

At this, the trio laughed. Soon, the formal barriers between them were broken with ease as the Lord and Lady rose from the chairs and stepped down from the dais to embrace their long-serving Guard.

"Have you brought my Grand-children safely to me, Haldir?" Lady Galadriel asked with mock severity as she stood before him.

Haldir replied with equal sincerity. "I have my lady. Though their company was a great source of grief to Lord Gimli."

At the mention of Gimli, Lady Galadriel's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Then show them in! Old friends are dearly welcome in this Hall."

Haldir turned to leave but paused in mid-step. He had not spoken of the mysterious woman that he and Legolas had found in the woods of Lórien. Blinking, he looked down as he felt the Lady's soft hand curl around his wrist. Slowly he raised his eyes and was soon shocked by the layer of understanding that burned brightly within her gaze.

"_It is known to us_," her voice whispered into his mind. "_Bring her here after we have made the formal greetings with our guests_."

Nodding, he silently left the room to usher in the group of Elves he had accompanied to the great city of Caras Galadhon. Upon the surface he remained cool and collected as always, but beneath the stillness of his features, a war of doubt raged on within the chambers of his heart. The Lady knew of Buf-ii's arrival. But what could it mean?

He supposed that all would be revealed in good time, but Haldir could not dispel the suspicions that accosted his thoughts.

-

-

-

Seconds had passed by and the minutes drew on as Buffy sat on the cushioned stool, waiting. What was she waiting for? She couldn't answer that... Buffy couldn't answer any of the questions she asked herself. She only hoped that the leader of these people knew what was going on.

Her purpose in this new world was a mystery to her—and she could not help but feel resentment and bitterness at her current situation. As _the_ Slayer, she had always had a purpose in her life. Something to do, a goal to achieve. And that goal was to save the world on a monthly, sometimes even weekly, basis. But now what? She was trapped in this parallel world with no purpose and no clue as to what role she played in the greater scheme of things. It was all too confusing and frustrating; to know deep down that she didn't belong here, but belonged in the warm arms of the light that had embraced her in death. The absence of that warm, comforting light made her feel hollow like the empty shell of an oyster that had been torn from the pearl buried in its' mouth.

She lowered her eyes to the shining floor, unable to escape the loneliness that threatened to swallow her entire being.

It was true that the other Elves and Gimli had been more than civil with her, but their newly formed friendship meant little to her. From the moment she had come to learn that her friends had been responsible for the mess she was in, Buffy had lost all faith and hope in the decency of friendship.

Pushing away a strand of hair from eyes, the mutter of quiet voices alerted her to the return of her travelling companions.

That was quick.

She looked upwards and to her right, only to find that the Elven Guard had not moved even a millimetre out of position.

As she stood, she noticed that he was still looking at her from the corner of his eye, but quickly averted his gaze when he saw that she was staring back at him in return. She wondered what he would do if she pulled a funny face at him. Would he be like those British guards outside the Queen's palace? Or would he make a face back? Or better yet, slap her. She was itching for a good fight.

Buffy was unable to find out as she absently turned to watch the group of Elves and Gimli step through the curtains with smiles of delight upon their faces. At least some people were happy.

As she looked at them, it struck her then how different they all seemed. Was it her or did they all just make with the glowy in a big way? Even Gimli had a certain aura of light surrounding him. As fascinated as she was, Buffy barely registered their farewells to her until Legolas finally approached her with a warm smile upon his face. The sorrow that has remained present in his eyes throughout the journey towards Caras Galadhon had somewhat dimmed, only to be replaced by a contented glow. He seemed a lot happier.

Buffy found herself returning his kind smile with a twitch of her lips. A certain kind of friendship had formed between them, even though Buffy knew they had nothing in common. He was light and day and she was the dark night. Two different people from opposite sides of the spectrum. And still, she found herself liking him for his kindness and weirdness, if she could put it that way.

"I am saddened to bid farewell to you so soon, Buf-ii," he said with the utmost sincerity.

She shrugged lamely. "I guess it can't be helped." Smooth. Real smooth. She cursed herself inwardly for being so inarticulate.

He smiled. "It has truly been a pleasure in making your acquaintance. I hope we shall meet again soon." Legolas offered a deep, gentlemanly bow before spinning gracefully on his heel to leave through the entrance of the tree-house where some of his fellow Elves had passed through moments before.

Buffy finally noticed Tathar standing quietly by the entrance. He caught her eye and nodded once with a gentle smile. She gave a small wave before he too disappeared through the curtained entrance. She felt, rather than saw the presence of Haldir standing beside her. Instantly, she knew that it was his duty to escort her to their leader. Heh. Take me to your leader.

She knew that it wasn't time for jokes, but what else was she supposed to do in this situation? She was talking to friggin' Elves and Dwarves!

"Why do I get the feeling I won't see them again?" Buffy asked Haldir softly, feeling somewhat sad.

The Marchwarden snorted delicately. "That depends upon the outcome of your meeting with Lady Galadriel," he replied dryly.

Buffy sighed imperceptibly. "Let's get this over with."

Haldir bowed at her mumbled request with much aplomb before gesturing to one of the partitions in the walled, gauze curtains. Nodding awkwardly, Buffy stepped through, only to be faced with a long wooden corridor that seemed never-ending. Haldir's tall, graceful frame brushed past her to lead her down the hallway. From the outside, the tree-house didn't look big at all. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her but she couldn't be sure.

The silent pair finally reached a pair of old antiquated wooden doors. Haldir knocked before opening them and both Slayer and Marchwarden walked through without much difficulty. As Buffy looked at the room, her jaw almost fell to the ground. She was hardly looking at a room; it was more like a grand hall of some sort. The walls were decorated with delicately coloured tapestries hanging from them and chandelier lanterns hung from the wooden ceiling in a majestic manner that made her think of the olden days. the various tapestries each told a story of some sort, but she barely had time to look at them before she was being ushered further into the hall. The place, although beautifully and richly decorated, made her feel warm and comfortable inside.

Like she had just come home.

Eventually, Buffy's attention was captured by the raised dais at the end of the hall, where she could make out two distinct yet prominent figures of a man and woman sitting upon comfortable high-backed chairs that reminded her of thrones. The warm sensation in her belly was doused by a cold wave of doubt and dread as she neared the two figures. As she stepped before them, a few feet away from the dais, Buffy could have sworn she saw the Elf woman nod at her from the corner of her eye.

From her left elbow, she watched Haldir bow low and flash her look as if to say she should do the same. Instead of bowing, Buffy made an awkwardly low curtsey, finally rising as Haldir rose. She still hadn't looked directly at the figures in their seats.

Watching with hooded eyes, Buffy gazed at the couple as they stood from their seats and stepped down from the dais, moving to stand before her. She realised then that she had made a big mistake in avoiding their faces throughout the entire ordeal of their greeting. Because just as she raised her eyes to focus upon the face of the woman's figure, her heart trembled against her ribcage and fell down into the depths of her stomach.

Time seemed evaporate from the pores of her skin as she held her gaze with that of the Elf woman's. Buffy found that she couldn't blink as she focused upon the most beautiful face she had ever had the pleasure of seeing in her entire life. Words were insignificant, for they could not do any justice to the ethereal grace and poise of the woman in front of her. She had thought that her travelling companions had been gorgeous, but they paled in comparison to this woman. In this woman, Buffy saw life itself. Embodied with every breath, every sigh, every laugh and every tear that had ever graced her smooth and flawless face. From the golden hair that seemed to shine of the sun's rays to the pale skin that exuded the moon's pale beams upon her pristine features. She _was_ glowing! Buffy was enamoured, and for the first time in her life—she was utterly speechless.

But it was the woman's eyes that held Buffy captive in their depths. Those eyes, so blue that they shimmered with light, held something deeper. Something that Buffy couldn't quite put her finger on. She barely managed to notice the Elf man standing beside the beautiful Elven creature, but when she did, she noted that he too was far more beautiful than Haldir, Legolas and the other Elves rolled into one. Her silent question had been answered; Elves did have variations of beauty between them. It was all she could do to stop the drool forming in her mouth.

Finally, she looked back at the female Elf and once again found herself captured within the woman's blue eyes. As she forced herself to gaze into the endless pools of blue, Buffy felt herself begin to drown in there intensity. She shivered. It was as if she was looking into the very core of the universe, clustered with an array of beautiful milky stars. The star-light shimmered in the deep blue iris of the lady's eyes.

What Buffy finally saw in the woman's eyes was... Eternity. An infinite, endless eternity that had been filled with the deepest of joys and an endless cavern of sorrow. Her sorrow knew no bounds.

The tears Buffy had been trying to hold back at the sight of the woman fell freely for the first time since her outburst in the woods. This woman reminded her of a summer breeze; of the purity that sprang forth from a babbling brook. She was no poet, but if she had been, that's what she would have said. Unable to stop herself, she took a tentative step forward, "What are you?" Her awe-filled whisper was the only sound that drifted aimlessly throughout the large room.

The woman's eyes glinted against the rays of the setting sun that beamed through one of the windows of the room. And then, it hit her—like a two ton truck careening straight through her.

She was immortal.

The female Elf was immortal... Did that mean all Elves were immortal? She had seen the same glint in all the Elves' eyes, but had dismissed it as nothing. But now... Standing before this woman, Buffy knew she had been wrong to dismiss the light that had been in her companions' eyes.

After a long moment the woman smiled, a melancholy smile that enveloped Buffy the strangest but comforting way.

"What do you believe I am?" Lady Galadriel asked.

The Elf woman's question hung latently in the air between them. Briefly, Buffy wondered how this woman could emanate such a brighter glow than the other two Elves in the room. How was she doing that?

"Power," Buffy answered quietly, but instinctively. "You are power." Her green eyes darted towards Haldir. The Marchwarden mouthed two words at her. _Lady Galadriel_, the Elven woman's name. Even her name seemed to possess a life of its own. Swallowing, Buffy repeated the word again. "Power."

She blinked as Lady Galadriel's smile grew. "Welcome," she said gently, "to Caras Galadhon; home to the Elves of Lothlórien. We are honoured to have you here... Child of the Earth."

The words slammed into Buffy's body with such a force, she almost staggered backwards. No, she couldn't possibly know... Could she?

"I know many things, Lady Buf-ii," Lady Galadriel remarked quietly.

The girl inside Buffy wanted to run. But the dominant Slayer in her heart wished to stay and fight this awe-inspiring, powerful force.

And the Slayer inside of Buffy always got her way.

-

-

-

"Cheer up, lad," Gimli chortled from his side, "It could be worse!" The Dwarf had been in very high spirits since his visit with Lady Galadriel.

Legolas swallowed a sigh and offered a smile to his dearest friend. He shifted slightly and almost winced as Gimli sat beside him, causing the swing-chair to rock back and forth at a faster pace. If he had not known that strong Elvish rope held up the swing, he would have been fearful to sit beside the hefty Dwarf, lest they break the swing and fall. As it was, the swing-chair took both Legolas and Gimli's weight with much more determination than he possessed himself. "What do you suppose is happening?" He asked softly.

Gimli grunted. "I assume you're talking about Lady Buf-ii?"

The Prince of Mirkwood nodded solemnly as they swung back and forth on the private swing of their guest _talan_.

"Don't worry about it," the Dwarf assured. "Lady Galadriel will surely take care of her, if she poses no threat."

"You still believe she is dangerous?" Legolas' eyes widened with incredulity.

"Not dangerous... But, you have to admit there is something strange about the little woman."

"How so?"

"You've noticed the way she carries herself..?"

"Like a warrior," Legolas confirmed quietly, unsettled by their conversation.

"Well, she's rather small that I hardly believe she _is_ a warrior. But looks can be deceptive."

Legolas grinned. "Aye. Look at you, my friend. So small and yet you have the heart of a warrior."

"If you had no just complimented me along with your insult, I would have had to push you off this swing!" Gimli growled, though his eyes held the kind of mirth that was only present when he was in Legolas' company. "Do not worry," he added with much more severity than had been necessary.

The smile from the Prince's face fell away as he turned to look at the breath-taking view of Lórien's trees surrounding him. "I hope we shall be able to meet again," he commented to the golden leaves that glinted against the rays of the setting sun.

-

-

-

"Tell me what you know," Buffy demanded, her spine straightening under the weight of the Lady's eyes.

Deep within her thoughts, Galadriel marvelled at the woman's petite frame. She was so tiny and so incredibly short! A full four heads shorter than she was. She looked down kindly at the young woman who seemed to be no more older than a quarter of a century. So young... And yet, the young woman's green eyes had seen more death and power before adulthood. Galadriel's bones could sense Buffy's power coursing within her veins... Newly born to this world.

Her star-filled eyes grew vacant as she spoke. "I know nothing but the past. The future, _your _future, is veiled to me. Even my mirror will not have the power to see what is to _be_," she paused, allowing her words to sink in. "Your blood is not of this world, and yet, you were born here in my realm. In Lothlórien; a child of the earth." Galadriel could see Haldir's shocked eyes widen at her. Her words were true... And by the Valar, the time had come to reveal her knowledge of the past.

That was all she could offer to this desolate soul standing before her.

Buffy scowled. "Stop it," she gritted her teeth. "Stop talking in riddles and tell me! What am I doing here? You have to know!"

Galadriel's brow furrowed, "Do you believe I possess knowledge that will help you?" Even though she did, she wondered how the mortal woman before her knew such a thing.

The Slayer tilted her head, her brow winging up to the intricately branched ceiling. "I do."

"How?" Galadriel tested.

Buffy hesitated before looking at the Elven woman squarely. "Your eyes..." She breathed. "Your eyes tell me you must know why I'm here. And how. So you have to tell me."

The Lady of the Light smiled then. A full, slow smile that shone brighter than the jewelled sun in the sky. "As you wish," she granted with her eyes turning to Haldir. "You may leave." She could see that her Marchwarden wished to stay, as he hesitated to turn and leave the room. Galadriel took pity on him and raised her hand. "You found her, Haldir?"

Haldir nodded slowly. "Along with Legolas."

The Lady blinked imperceptibly before the chilling smile returned to her face. "Then you had better stay and heed my words." The Marchwarden bowed deeply at her, grateful for being included in the mystery that seemed to grow more puzzling by the minute. Galadriel gestured towards a small round table that was nestled near the side of the dais. "You are weary from your travels, please be seated."

Buffy wanted to say no. She wanted to argue with the beautiful Elf woman, but she couldn't find the will to speak as the Lady's voice echoed in her mind. _'Patience, young one. You will have the knowledge you seek, though you only need to look into yourself to see the truth of what you are..."_

Though Buffy was chilled to the bone by the words in her mind, she already knew what she was. And she didn't need Lady Galadriel to tell her. She was Death. She was the bringer and the giver; the one girl in the world that was sent to battle evil.

_Death_ was her gift.

-

-

-

**Sindarin Translations:**

_"Melin ceni chîn gîn sílar ir galadach"_ — I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh.

_"Herven vuin"_ — Beloved husband.

_"Gen melin"_ — I love you.

_"Gerich veleth nîn"_ — You have my love.

-

-

-

**Author's Note:** Next chapter, Buffy learns about her purpose in Middle-earth and the ancient secrets that the Slayer's legend never mentioned.


	7. Say What Now?

**Author's Note:** Well, look at that—a relatively quicker update than before. I love listening to the composition _Sacrifice_ from the episode 'The Gift' It's very moving and I think it suits this story very well. Ok... So, I have to admit that initially I was afraid to put this chapter up. I suppose I'm nervous as to what everyone will think about the way the story is going. I hope it doesn't seem so ridiculous and inconceivable... Anyway, I'll stop rambling.

**NB:** Many, if not all, of the facts I state about the history of Middle-earth is correct. I give thanks to my fellow Tolkienite friend, Jen, who helped me with the research for this.

Thanks for your reviews, your opinions are valued and will be taken into account.

-

-

-

**Shattered Reflection**

Chapter Seven:

Say What Now?

-

-

-

_Previously..._

"You are weary from your travels, please be seated."

Buffy wanted to say no. She wanted to argue with the beautiful Elf woman, but she couldn't find the will to speak as the Lady's voice echoed in her mind. _'Patience, young one. You will have the knowledge you seek, though you only need to look into yourself to see the truth of what you are...'_

Though Buffy was chilled to the bone by the words in her mind, she already knew what she was. And she didn't need Lady Galadriel to tell her. She was Death. She was the bringer and the giver; the one girl in the world that was sent to battle evil.

_Death_ was her gift.

-

-

-

There was so much Buffy wanted to ask the woman before her. But in order to do that, she needed to have the facts first. She wasn't known for her patience but in this instance the Slayer inside her grudgingly backed down.

She started with surprise as Lady Galadriel's soft fingertips tilted her chin upwards.

Buffy stared into the Lady's cold blue eyes unflinchingly and shamelessly as the she-Elf smiled at her stern countenance imperceptibly. That small smile felt so intimate—almost as if she and Lady Galadriel shared a secret of some kind. Of course, she was totally oblivious as to what that secret actually was. "Come," the Lady's soothing voice murmured, "Sit."

Unwillingly, Buffy stepped away from the Elven woman's motherly touch and forced herself to move stiffly towards the cosy wooden table. She sat down onto the cushioned seat of the well-crafted chair and waited for the others to seat themselves accordingly. Her knees felt weak and wobbly like jelly and she was glad that she had sat down at that moment. She knew that she would have been completely embarrassed if she'd fallen flat on her face.

Although the table was large enough for six people it somehow felt more comfortable with only four. She had the odd feeling that the table was only used for the Lord and Lady's more friendlier, intimate guests. Her eyes drifted towards the embroidered cream tablecloth and even with her lack of knowledge in the crafts department, Buffy was impressed by the intricate details that were woven into the silk fabric. Like the tapestries, the tablecloth was also telling a story, this time woven from thin silver thread.

If she had been more attentive, she would have bothered to decipher the story. As it was, she really didn't care about those things, except for the fact that it looked really pretty. Really, _really_ pretty. Like the yummy frosted icing on a wedding cake. She could just imagine the Elves' faces if she started chewing on the expensive-looking cloth. She was about to smile at that when she remembered exactly why she was in the room with these strange people. Once again, reality came thundering back to her and ended with a glorious crash.

As Haldir sat down beside her, he offered her an encouraging nod. Even though it was a little strained, Buffy managed to return the gesture with a a quirk of her lips. It was much more of an effort than she would normally put into smiling. The March Warden was actually being sincere and kind for once by not making fun of her and the situation that she was in. It might have been because of his Lord and Lady's presence, but Buffy was just grateful that he didn't have any crude jokes ready to shoot at her. If he did, then she felt as if she had the right to punch him. _Hard_.

Lady Galadriel and the other Elven male finally sat down opposite her. They both wore peaceful, if not subdued, expressions on their faces as they studied her quietly. Finally, the Elf sitting beside Lady Galadriel spoke as he lowered his head in greeting towards her. "Well met Lady Buf-ii. I am Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien and husband to the Lady of the Light. It is an honour to make your acquaintance." He looked at her blankly, waiting for her to respond. There was nothing in his hard gaze. Absolutely nothing.

A moment of silence ensued his words. Buffy didn't know what to make of his aloof manner. "Uh... Yeah. Likewise," she finally replied, somewhat hesitantly. Her eyes darted towards Lady Galadriel.

The golden haired Elf raised her brow in amusement at the smaller woman's panicked expression.

Lady Galadriel chuckled softly. "Lord Celeborn is teasing you, Lady Buf-ii. He does this to everyone; do not be fooled by his stern appearance, for his heart soft like the petals of a freshly blossoming flower on a new day."

"Why—thank you, my lady!" Both husband and wife exchanged veiled glances.

Buffy frowned, feeling a little more than confused by everything that was going on around her. Wasn't this supposed to be a serious meeting? She switched her eyes to Lord Celeborn's once more and stared back the Elven male as he returned her severe gaze. Most people would have fidgeted under the scrutiny of her hefty green eyes, but this guy didn't even bat a single eyelash. "O-kay..?"

At length, Lord Celeborn's face broke out into a small grin at the bemused line that creased the young woman's brow. "You shall have to forgive my behaviour, Lady Buf-ii. I am carefree at heart and sometimes I tend to let it get the best of me."

Buffy's right eye twitched as the Elven Lord smiled at her. Blinking rapidly, she shook her head. "Right. Moving on," her steady eyes fell upon the Lady's, "You have some information that I need... What am I doing here?"

Haldir's complexion was growing paler by the minute at Buffy's sharp voice. She knew that she was being a bit rude, but she was annoyed and tired. Tired of everything.

As Lady Galadriel studied her silently, Buffy felt the tingle of a shiver shoot up her spine. She shuddered and was surprised that the Elf woman had managed to get such a response from her. It was unnerving and it caused her to shift in her seat slightly. The high back of the chair seemed to burn through her thin jumper as the Lady continued her wordless study.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torture, Lady Galadriel spoke. "A few days prior to your arrival, I felt a deep tremor in the earth below. I know _now _that it was your arrival that brought it to me," her toneless voice was a distant beacon, drawing Buffy inwards with every syllable she uttered. "Lord Celeborn also sensed it..."

"We felt nothing," Haldir commented, almost to himself. "The company and I felt no disruption around us."

"You are young, Haldir. Only the oldest of our race could discern it. The tremor rippled through me like the life blood I bear in my veins. It was a part of me, yet it surrounded and encompassed me wholly. And though it was not unpleasant and I sensed no evil from it, a dark shadow followed behind it... The trembling of Lothlórien's soil beheld the arrival of the lady sitting beside you." Even though Lady Galadriel's unnerving blue eyes remained upon Buffy, she answered Haldir's comments without hesitation. "All is not as it seems with her."

The March Warden looked at Buffy with surprise and thinly veiled shock. She could feel his curiosity burning within her like a flame, but she could also feel his wariness at her presence. The contrasting emotions sent a wave of unease through her.

Buffy wondered... She wondered if the Lady knew what she was.

"I know what you are," Lady Galadriel announced almost instantly, as if replying to her thoughts.

Buffy was officially weirded out. But she refused to show it. "Oh? And what am I?"

Lady Galadriel ignored Buffy's question. "Long ago in the lands of Valinor the Vala, Oromë, Huntsman of the Valar and Tulkas, wrought and coveted the Halls of Valhalla upon the request of Námo, or Mandos as he is known—"

"But those Halls are of legend!" Haldir exclaimed, interrupting the Lady's words. He was given a reprimanding gaze from Galadriel and could not help but bow his head in submission. "Forgive me, my lady."

The Lady's hard eyes softened at her March Warden's chastened demeanour. "I would not be so dismissive of such legends, Haldir. I was raised in Aman and though the knowledge of those Halls has passed from the Elves that had returned to Beleriand and then moved on to Middle-earth, that very same knowledge was returned to me recently by a most unseemly messenger. They came merely a day after the arrival of Lady Buf-ii and the tremor I felt within the earth; they bore with them a decree from Taniquetil that contained the reason for the messenger's hasty entry into Lothlórien. I was deeply taken aback by the news I received and even more disturbed by the manner of the messenger."

Buffy raised her hand in a pathetic gesture of confusion. She was feeling dizzy from all the strange names Lady Galadriel seemed to be saying one after the other. "Um—who're those people; what's the Halls of Valley and what does it have to do with me?"

"Halls of Valhalla," the Lady corrected with an amused smile. "And it has much to do with you, my child." She continued to speak, allowing none to interfere with the task she had set out to complete. They would have answers before the day waned. "They are not merely people, Lady Buf-ii. Lord Oromë and Lord Tulkas are two of the fourteen great Valar; The Powers. They once existed with Eru Ilúvatar before descending into the world that is known as Arda..." And so, Lady Galadriel began her ancient tale, as she knew that the small woman before her possessed no knowledge of the world around her.

As time passed, with every word that was spoken, Buffy came to learn about the history of the world she was in. She was completely fascinated by the stories Lady Galadriel told her. Even though she was a little put out by the strange names, Buffy listened with rapt attention as the Lady of the Light spoke of Ilúvatar and the Ainur that became the products of his thoughts. It suddenly hit Buffy that this was real. That there _was_ a God, the One, and that he was called Ilúvatar and he wasn't just a myth created by people that were merely frightened by the unknown. It was all real in this world and all of the unbelievable stories that Lady Galadriel told her could not have been faked.

They just couldn't have been, even if they did sound like fairy tales or myths.

It was described to Buffy that through the music of the Ainur, Ilúvatar created a _Vision of the World_. And when that world was made, many of the Ainur wished to enter it and ready it for the coming if Ilúvatar's Children; Elves and Men. Once a part of Ilúvatar's vision had finally been created, the Ainur that wanted to enter into the world. They descended into it and separated to form the Valar, or _The Powers_ as they were also known as, and the Maiar. She found it easier to remember them collectively as _The Powers_, simply because it felt more close to home and they seemed to sound like the Powers That Be. But she quickly learnt that they were nothing like the Powers That Be. Because the Ainur had separated into two groups, the Valar and the Maiar, the Maiar were not officially part of _The Powers_. This was because they had less strength than those that formed the Valar. But essentially, they were from the same race and both the Valar and Maiar possessed power, just on a different level of strengths.

So out of the Valar and the Maiar, the fourteen spirits of the Valar that came into the world Ilúvatar had created were the strongest.

But originally there had been fifteen.

Buffy learnt that the fifteenth spirit from the Ainur, some whack-job called Melkor, or Morgoth as he was soon to be named, decided to become more than slap happy with the free will he'd been given by Ilúvatar. Melkor turned away from Ilúvatar's path and became the Big Bad of this world, or dimension as Buffy thought of it. She was told by the three Elves sitting around her that Melkor was _bad_, really bad. Worse than Glory-bad. Worse than her cooking-bad. But luckily, the Valar had managed to banish him into a place called the Void after his defeat in the War of Wrath.

Even though Melkor had been the strongest of the Valar, he had eventually been tossed out on his ass by them. She was surprised to learn that Melkor was brother to Manwë, another Vala. But after being sent into the Void, Manwë became the strongest and wisest of the Valar. Even with his strength, Manwë continued to follow the path Ilúvatar had laid out before them and he grew in esteem. Though, in her mind, Buffy almost understood why Melkor had taken his own way even though it was ultimately a path of evil and destruction. She guessed that he just had not wanted to be part of Ilúvatar's grand 'master plan' and that he'd wanted to make his own destiny. Just like her. Melkor had not been given the chance to do what he wanted to and it must have rubbed him the wrong way; so he rebelled, in the only way he knew how. To become evil.

She could understand that. Buffy didn't condone it, but she could understand why Melkor had become evil. There were so many times when she wished she hadn't been _'Chosen'_ to slay. That it didn't have to be a part of her destiny... But it was. And she had no choice about it. She couldn't avoid it and even if she tried, the instinct inside her wouldn't have rested until she finally answered her calling.

Buffy voiced her theory about Melkor to the Elves, minus her own feelings of being The Slayer.

However, they were quick to refute her suggestions and seemed appalled at her ideas. Only Lady Galadriel had looked at her with something akin to understanding.

The Slayer soon learnt to keep her opinions to herself. Apparently, her radical ways of thinking had disturbed Haldir and Lord Celeborn, so she decided to keep her mouth shut about such ideas. It was almost as if they didn't want to understand Melkor's reasoning. True, he had been the cause for a lot of death and destruction in this world but with the baddies, there's always a motive. Always. Maybe he _was _just a megalomaniac psycho at heart, she certainly didn't know, but Buffy maintained her own views about the fallen Vala.

-

-

-

Time drew onwards and Lady Galadriel moved onto the awakening of Ilúvatar's Children; first the Elves at Cuiviénen, during the Years of the Trees, and then came the race of Men during the First Age in a far eastern land called Hildórien. Buffy felt some confusion about the dates, but she didn't say anything. The Years of the Trees and the First, Second and Third Ages were just too dizzying for her blonde head. Sometimes she wished she was smart enough to understand things like her friends could. But she'd never been one for academics, even though her SAT's had proved that she wasn't as dumb as she originally thought she was. She was actually proud of that accomplishment. It gave her a sense of purpose and belonging. But even her SAT's couldn't help her understand the dates and times of this new world. She would just have to wing it and pretend she knew what Lady Galadriel was jabbering on about.

The stories moved on through the Years of the Trees and the First and Second Ages, all of which grew more and more interesting. She found out that Elves weren't as perfect as she thought them to be.

An Elf called Fëanor had made a huge, _huge_ mistake during the Years of the Trees. Something to do with the Silmarils or jewels, as she was told by Lord Celeborn when she didn't understand. Through Lord Celeborn's explanation of the Silmarillion tale, Buffy caught Haldir sending her mute but wary glances at her. There was a look of disbelief on his face, almost as if he could not understand why she knew nothing about the world she was supposed to be living in.

She was sure that the March Warden would have a heart-attack once he knew that she wasn't from this world.

Buffy returned her attention to Lord Celeborn and as he continued the story of the Silmarillion, she grew more and more disheartened by what she heard. Fëanor had become blind by his lust for the Silmarils that he had created and in the end, he scorned the Valar's guidance for them. They had been stolen by Melkor and in the end, the Noldorin Elf swore a blood oath recapture them from the fallen Vala. It was all extremely troubling and sad for her. She learnt that Elves felt emotions deeply, deeper than a mortal and once Fëanor's wrath had been incurred by Melkor, he lost the plot completely and gave up everything that an Elf should have stood for. Valour, honour and respect were replaced by pride, ego and lust.

What hurt her the most was that the quest for the Silmarils had been a case of the blind leading the blind. Many of the Elves that followed Fëanor, did so out of loyalty to the House of Fëanor and his father, who had been killed by Melkor when he had taken the Silmarils from Valinor, the blessed realm of the Valar. They had no idea that the oath they had taken would have resulted in the death of their own kin. They had no idea that the blood of their own people would stain the shores of Aman. They had no idea... And they couldn't go back on their word.

The quest for the Silmarils had been nothing but a big mess. Along with it, Buffy's eyes had been opened to the fact that perhaps the Elves weren't as perfect and as beautiful as she thought them to be. From listening to the story, she found out that the characters of the Elves were balanced on a thin blade. They had to keep themselves in check _all the time_. It hadn't come as a surprise to Buffy when she found out that Elves could die from sorrow. If they could be angered so deeply and create so much havoc, then sorrow would destroy them. They felt deeply, loved deeply, hurt deeply and once their wrath was unleashed, _everyone _around them would eventually pay the price.

At that moment, Buffy was glad to be human; to be a mortal.

As she studied the eyes of the three Elves around her, she could see the hidden and withered weariness within their depths and it made her pity them. It made her pity their long lives and the endlessness of the years they were forced to endure. Even if they died from sorrow or were killed in battle, their spirits would flee to the Halls of Mandos, the Doomsman of the Valar, where they would wait to be reborn and return to their kin in Aman and so the cycle continued. Only the Men that Lady Galadriel spoke of were free from this. They visited the Halls of Waiting, but where they went afterwards, no-one truly knew.

She finally understood how Angel must have felt being immortal. And he was _young _compared to these Elves. Change was a hard concept to grasp, but the Elves had to deal with it every year of their never-ending lives. It was almost enough to make Buffy anti-immortal. But then again, she supposed that the Elves were simply used to it and it felt as natural as the different seasons. Immortality wasn't given to them as it was with Vampires. They had been born with it.

-

-

-

"And now, you shall learn of the Third Age and rising of Isildur's bane; the One Ring."

Buffy blinked her thoughts away as the Lady's calm voice spoke out firmly against the fragile evening. She looked out of the nearby window and almost gasped at the dark void that encompassed it. Only moonlight and starlight filtered through the glass panes as they lovingly caressed the amber leaves outside, as if they were their children of the night. During the course of the evening, candles had been lit and the chandeliers above gave off a soft orange glow; someone had also managed to light those as well. Hours must have gone by, but Buffy hardly acknowledged the passage of time. Somehow, she didn't know when, food had arrived on the table and she was disturbed to find that she had dropped her guard so much that she barely registered her surroundings as she ate the tasty breads and cheeses set out on display. An assortment of sweet and savoury dishes fruits, pastries and dried meat were placed out on the table in front of her and there they remained, half eaten by the four members of the large room.

It was strange—almost as if time had no meaning in this place.

She frowned, pondering the Lady's words. "Isildur's bane? I think I've heard you mention his name before."

"Aye," Lady Galadriel said gravely. "You have heard his tale of the Second Age. Isildur was a Númenorean and the heir of Elendil; King of Gondor and Arnor. Their old kingdom was ravaged, for the Númenorean's pride and greed had become so great and corrupted by Sauron that they had challenged the Valar and thus their glorious kingdom was destroyed as a result of this direct defiance. Only the faithful were saved, Elendil and his sons Isildur and Anárion were of those Númenoreans that remained true and faithful to the Valar, whilst King Ar-Pharazôn perished because of his corruption. Elendil led the remaining trusted Númenoreans and founded the kingdoms of Arnor in the north and Gondor in the south of Middle-earth—where the current, newly crowned King resides on his throne at this present day."

It was strange to know that this palce had Kings and Queens; it definitely reminded her of the Middle Ages. She nodded thoughtfully to herself, her brow furrowing as a result. "Elendil and his men joined forces with the Elves, right? Something to do with a ring?"

"Not just a ring, Lady Buf-ii," Lord Celeborn interjected. "It was _the _Ring; the One Ring. The Last Alliance of Elves and Men drew their swords together and marched upon Sauron in the hopes of destroying the evil he had cast upon Middle-earth."

She bit her lip, trying to remember everything she had been told previously. Buffy realised that the Elves were waiting for her to continue the story. They wanted to see if she could recall what they had told her before. Blowing her cheeks out at the difficult task ahead of her, she began to tell the tale that had been recounted to her. "So, Sauron was a Maia and he was turned evilby Melkor... And after Melkor was sent into the Void, Sauron returned and created the One Ring so that he could control some other rings that weren't made by him but by the Mírdain that were these jewel-smiths of a place called... Eregion? Am I right?" She didn't wait for their answer, but steam-rolled on. "They wanted to learn more from Sauron and they didn't think he was evil because he wore a disguise and called himself... Er, Assatan?"

"Annatar," Haldir offered helpfully.

She sent him a grateful smile. "Right, Annatar," Buffy took a deep breath. Her mind felt like off-date cheese, all crumbly and stinky. "Ok, so... The Elves of Eregion made sixteen Rings of Power but the Elves were sneaky and had a hidden agenda. Um... They made three rings that were more powerful than the others and because they didn't know Sauron was Annatar, he made the One Ring in his fortress so that he could take control of all the other rings. But he didn't bet on the Elves making their own Rings of Power and when he used _his_ ring for the first time, he found out and was wicked-mad. But the Elves found out what was going on and they took off their rings so he couldn't do anything. He... He was really, _really _piss—ah—angry?"

The three Elves nodded encouragingly, waiting to see if she had remembered the tale they had told her hours prior to this moment. "Right," Buffy continued, "He was angry and he went to Eregion with his nasty army and destroyed Eregion and along with it, the Elf called Caleb was also killed. He was the guy that helped make the rings?" They nodded, but Lord Celeborn muttered the Elf's true name to her. Her eyes widened at the mistake and she corrected it. "Celebrimbor, the Elf was called Celebrimbor and he was Fëanor's... Grandson?"

Again, the Elves confirmed her words gravely.

Buffy's eyes brightened as she remembered something, "Oh, wait! Sauron didn't get the three Rings of Power because they'd already been sent away. Is that right?

Lady Galadriel smiled, "You are correct, Lady Buf-ii. I have never met a more attentive mortal than you. Your memory is quite impeccable."

The Slayer held back a blush. She smiled awkwardly. "Thanks, I get called a lot of things but attentive isn't one of them."

"You should not undermine yourself so, my child," the golden-haired lady murmured quite morosely.

Buffy shrugged. She didn't want tobe involved in a pity party. "It's okay. So, tell me what happened in the Third Age when the One Ring was found again?"

And thus they began to recall the events of the Third Age and the recent years of the past. For the three Elves, the journey into their recent memories were fraught with pain and sorrow at the crumbling world that had surrounded them and been on the brink of total destruction. Many good Elves and Men had perished in the War of the Ring. Though the Elves did not fight in the battles and skirmishes of Men, there had been many battles upon the borders of Lothlórien and in Mirkwood where King Thranduil had found himself dealing with numerous and endless amounts of foul creatures, such as the children of Ungoliant and Shelob.

Buffy was amazed by what she heard about the Quest of the Fellowship.

A small creature called a Hobbit had gone on the adventure of a life-time to destroy the One Ring. His name was Frodo and he had risked his life to save the people of this world and Buffy felt proud _for _him. He did what no other living Man or Elf could; he saved them all. As she found out before, the Ring could only be destroyed in the fires of Orodruin—Mount Doom—where Sauron first created it. And from what she had been told, it would have been a huge struggle to get there in the first place. Especially because Sauron still had his army of nasties running around the lands of Middle-earth for his Ring. It must have really difficult for Frodo...

Buffy was sad to learn that one member of the Fellowship had died to protect two other Hobbits that had also accompanied Frodo on his almost incapable task. His name was Boromir, Son of Denethor and she was told that he died bravely, doing what he loved best; fighting for truth and justice.

In the end many things had happened that seemed like fate unravelling like the steady ripples in a pond that would set off another chain of events, which culminated in the victory for the good guys. It was all very dramatic and she knew it would have made a great film in the end, but this story—everything she had been told—was real to these people. They had lived it, suffered from it and endured the pain of loss but in the end, they gained peace and respite from the evil that had surrounded them for many centuries... It was weird that it was all so real. That this actually happened.

She found the courage to say this to her three Elven companions. "It's all true... The story about the Ring, Frodo, King Aragorn, his Dúnedain Rangers... And King Théoden who died and the Witch-King that was killed by his niece; a woman not a man. It's all... true?"

"You do not believe us?" Haldir remarked quite menacingly with an incredulous look upon his fair face. "Were you not here when the War of the Ring occurred? After everything you have been told, which you should have known, _this_ is your response? Ungrateful mortal. Is this is the gratitude you show us even after I brought you here to have an audience with Lady Galadriel?"

Buffy scowled at his assumption. "I didn't mean it like that," she snapped, crossing her arms. "I—"

"Peace, children," Lord Celeborn intercepted the argument, much to Buffy's relief. "It would not bode well for you to engage Lady Buf-ii in combat, Haldir."

The March Warden did not catch the warning in his Lord's voice and so he snorted indelicately, "I would not do such a thing, my lord."

"Good," Lord Celeborn was satisfied with this.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy sat up straighter in her chair, eyeing Haldir furiously.

Haldir returned her fiery gaze with shards of ice dancing in his own blue eyes. "I would not fight with a _mortal _woman. It would be unseemly and—"

"Enough!"

Buffy jumped as Lady Galadriel's voice spoke over Haldir's firmly but softly. Her tone brooked no argument as her words were coated in steel. The Slayer inside Buffy was itching to reach out and lay one on the uppity March Warden, but the Lady's penetrating eyes stopped her from doing so. In the end she settled back into her chair, all the while huffing to herself.

"I am sure it was not Lady Buf-ii's intention to imply that all she heard was false, Haldir. Rather, she has good reason to question all she has come to know."

"Yeah," Buffy sent a smug and triumphant look at the Elf that was trying not glower at her, "What she said!" Buffy gestured at the Lady with her thumb.

-

-

-

"And now we come to it," Lady Galadriel suddenly whispered to the small mortal as Buffy restrained herself from hurting and pouncing on her March Warden. "We come to the reason of your sudden appearance in Lothlórien and Middle-earth."

The Slayer's ears perked up at this. As much as she had actually enjoyed the history lesson, she really only wanted to learn about the reason she had been torn from Heaven. Buffy simply wanted to know how she could get back and when. "What is the reason?"

The Lady smiled distantly, as if she was trying to remember something in her past. "During the Years of the Trees, the Huntsman of the Valar, Oromë, was known for his pursuit of Melkor's creatures in the dawn of the world. But it was Tulkas who was the most war-like of the Valar. He was strong and steadfast and he had battled Melkor in the years when the world was young. Now, when the first stirrings of Men occurred in the far eastern lands, they were approached Mandos. He bade them to join him in manning the Halls of Valhalla. These Halls bore no semblance to Mandos' Halls of Waiting. For you see, the Halls of Valhalla were created to house the spirits and newly forged bodies of the fallen warriors of Ilúvatar."

Galadriel paused, allowing her words to sink into the minds of those around her. "After your death in your ownrealm and before you were brought here to Lothlórien, your spirit and ageless body were housed in the Halls of Valhalla, at peace and at rest. And though you were not a warrior of this realm, you fought and died bravely in your own. From the different realms and worlds, all the great warriors battling against evil are sent to the Halls of Valhalla once they have served their duty and their purpose. In those Halls, their spirits and renewed bodies are to be at rest until the time comes when they shall be called to rise for the End. The Halls of Valhalla were a part of Ilúvatar's vision and only he and Manwë are privy to the outcome. Tulkas and Oromë, along with Mandos, were bidden to guard the Halls until that time arrives; they are the ones who decide and judge which warriors are deserving enough to enter these sacred Halls. You were one of warriors chosen to reside in the Halls of Valhalla, Lady Buf-ii."

Buffy blinked owlishly. She sputtered on her words before finally getting the out. "_Say what now_?" Her shrill voice caused the Elves around her to wince. She glared at Haldir, who was looking at her with something between wonderment and bafflement. Even Lord Celeborn looked as if someone had slapped a smelly wet fish across his face. It was obvious that his wife had forgotten to mention this to him. "Are you saying that when I died, I was sent to those Halls? In Valinor? That place was my idea of Heaven?"

"It is true my child," Lady Galadriel assured her. "You were there prior to your arrival here."

"I felt so safe there... And it was so warm and soft," Buffy murmured to herself, briefly forgetting about the listening ears of the Elves that surrounded her. She returned to herself and placed a blank mask over her face at the questioning glances she received.

"You were a warrior in your world, Buf-ii?"

At Haldir's softly posed question, Buffy looked at him with a wry smile, forgetting the anger she had felt towards him previously. "I was... Kind of."

"Did you fight fell creatures of your realm?" Lord Celeborn jumped in, eager to learn more about this strange young woman that had been chosen by the Valar to reside in the forgotten Halls of Valhalla.

Buffy laughed humourlessly. "I did. I was a Slayer in my world. _The _Slayer. The one girl chosen in every generation to fight the baddies. I was the _Chosen One_—I _am_ the Chosen One... But I don't know if that applies here anymore. Would do I do here if I can't slay? There's no evil forces around at the moment." She looked at Lady Galadriel and saw that the Elven Queen knew exactly what she was talking about. She must have been informed by the mysterious messenger that had been sent to her, Buffy thought absently.

The Lady's next words confirmed Buffy's theories. "In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer... This is your decree, is it not?"

Buffy couldn't pull her eyes away from Lady Galadriel. She made a throaty sound that was meant as a confirmation. At the Lady's steady but shrewd gaze, Buffy began to speak. In return for everything that had been told to her, she reciprocated their gesture by giving edited details about her life as the Slayer. Recounting her past in this way felt mildly disturbing but she knew that she couldn't get away with hiding most of her dark secrets. Of course, she had no intention to divulge any personal information about her love life and other things of that nature, but she informed them about the Demons and Vampires that had plagued her town and world. She described to them how she had managed to save it time and again from the brink of destruction, even going to the lengths of sacrificing herself.

They Elves seemed impressed by her actions but disturbed by the events that had taken place in Buffy's world.

At the end, Lord Celeborn turned to look at his wife in surprise. "You knew _exactly_ what she was?"

Her star-filled eyes shimmered with mirth. "A little bird told me."

It was Lord Celeborn's turn to be amused. "Ah, I see! Your mystery messenger."

"Aye," the Lady chuckled. "But the arrival of Lady Buf-ii is also shrouded in mystery. How can the dead rise again without Ilúvatar's blessing, Lady Buf-ii?" Galadriel already knew the answer, of course. But she wished for Buffy to speak of her plight. Silence was could do more damage to the Slayer's soul than speaking.

The Slayer knew what the female Elf was asking. How could she tell them? How could she let them know that she had been torn from eternal bliss by her selfish friends? The Elves' thoughts on mortals and their petty desires would be confirmed if she told them why she'd been brought back to life. But as Buffy thought this, a suddeen calm washed over her. It was not of her doing but of Lady Galadriel's, though she did not know this. And so, she made her decision to speak. Her voice was hushed with shame as she began, "My friends... My friends from my world did this. They tried to bring me back with magic. Black magic."

"Your friends?" Haldir leaned closer, fascinated by what he heard. She must have had powerful friends if they could bring back the dead. For all his awed countenance, Haldir was appalled by the prospect. It reminded him too much of Sauron; The Necromancer. He had had the power of dark magics at his beck and call in Dol Guldur.

Lady Galadriel interrupted Haldir's thoughts. "But their power was not as great as Manwë's," she told Buffy severely. "I am told that he intercepted at the last moment and managed send your old body and spirit to Middle-earth when this world shifted. If he had not countered the strong spell of the dark magic that invaded Valinor, you would have been returned to your world and there many imbalances would be created; chaos would have ensued."

"But I wasn't," Buffy concluded softly. "I'm here and... I want to go back. I _can_ go back, right?"

There was a moment of suffocating silence that descended upon the room. Buffy looked pleadingly at the powerful Elven Queen sitting across from her. Finally, Lady Galadriel sighed with sorrow. "Your spirit has been returned to your former body, Lady Buf-ii. You cannot return to the Halls of Valhalla but you will once you are given the gift of death again."

"I have to die again to be allowed back into the Halls?"

The Lady nodded as she stood from her seat and walked around the circular table to where Buffy was sitting. She surprised her husband and Haldir by moving to kneel beside Buffy's chair. Once settled, she clasped the Slayer's cheek in her palm and offered a motherly caress. "I know that you fear the life ahead of you. But you should not be bound down by the troubles of your past. And mayhap your future could be fraught with difficulties, but Manwë has offered you a choice."

Buffy frowned slightly. "And what choice is that?"

"He has granted you passage into Valinor, the Undying Lands. If you so choose, you may accompany me to the Grey Havens and we shall sail into the West together, where it is ever-green and beautiful. There in Valinor, you will be allowed live the rest of your life in a peace and comfort that you did not know of before your death and at the end of your life, you will rejoin the Halls in a newly formed body. Or, if it is your wish, you may remain in Middle-earth until your dying day. Once your spirit has fled this body, it will be returned to the Halls of Valhalla and there you shall remain anew."

"But... I thought only Elves were allowed to go to Valinor." Buffy murmured quietly, as she remembered what she had been told about the Undying Lands and the last journey of the Elves.

"It is true," Galadriel said with a hint of laughter, "Very few mortals are granted passage into Aman. You are indeed blessed that Manwë has given you this choice. Only he and Eru know of the life you suffered before joining the Halls of Valhalla. And though you will not become immortal by residing in the Undying Lands, you have shall have laughter, joy and peace before you are returned to the Halls. It is a difficult decision, I do not deny this, but you have ample time to make your choice."

"How long will I have?" Buffy tilted her head as the Lady's hand left her cheek. The area of her cheek where Galadriel's hand had been was warm and tingly.

Returning to her seat, Lady Galadriel answered Buffy's question. "You will have a year before you must choose. Until then, I would be honoured and glad for you to remain in Lothlórien. Or if you wish it, you may travel to the different realms of Middle-earth and acquaint yourself to the history you learnt of this land."

Ok.

Buffy's head was really beginning to hurt at that moment. How could she make such a decision? From what she heard about Valinor, she would have _loved_ to go with Lady Galadriel and see the beauty of that land. She knew how lucky she was to be allowed to enter that land but... The story about the Ring Bearer and his Quest to save Middle-earth had caught her interest too. Deep within her heart, she wanted to visit all the places she had been told about. She wanted to see Gondor and the King that now sat on its throne. She wanted to travel to Rohan and meet the Horse-lords that had come to the aid of Gondor in it's direst needs. And she wanted to go to Rivendell and meet Elrond and the other Elves, as well as visit the Shire and see the Hobbits. She knew that they were all alive because she'd been told that the War of the Ring had ended only a year before her arrival. But Buffy also understood that all of this would take longer than a year to accomplish.

She was stuck.

A part of her wanted to go to Valinor and be a peace in the beauty of that land, while another part of her wanted to experience the adventure of Middle-earth.

What was she supposed to do? How would she ever choose?

As these thoughts accosted her mind, Buffy froze completely. She looked at the faces of the three Elves that were watching her and she could see their concern plainly. She asked the dreaded question that popped up into her mind. "If I'm here, am I still dead in my world?"

"I believe so," Lord Celeborn surmised.

"Then my friends, my sister; they all think I'm dead?"

"Yes," Galadriel breathed softly. "Your friends believe that they failed in bringing you back."

Buffy blinked heavily and sighed deeply. "I'll never get to see them again for the rest of my life," she whispered. "Dawn..." Her sister's name slipped out sorrowfully past the crevice of her dry and weathered lips.

Haldir rubbed his jaw. "Dawn?"

The Slayer let out the breath she had been holding. "My sister... I had to die to save her."

Once again, Haldir was taken aback by the actions of the small woman beside him. The afternoon and evening had been full of surprises. The legend of Valhalla had been true and it was proven by Lady Galadriel's words. Next to him, a warrior sat that had previously been in those very Halls but was now here in Middle-earth all because her friends wished to return her to the land of the living. If Haldir had not been and Elf and trusted the word of his Lord and Lady, he would not have believed any of the things he heard through the course of the evening.

"You did a noble deed, Lady Buf-ii, do not regret past choices," Celeborn's gentle words pierced through the March Warden's thoughts.

"But I left her on her own," Buffy said somewhat guiltily.

"She is not alone," Lady Galadriel confirmed at length. "When you were in the Halls of Valhalla, you knew she would be well and safe. With your friends. All is as it was and as it should be."

"I guess..."

"Do not linger on your past, little one. You cannot go back and so you must look ahead."

Buffy grudgingly accepted the Lady's words. Her brow creased as she thought of something. "Who was the messenger that gave you all this information about me and what happened?"

A teasing, beautiful smile played upon the Elven Queen's lips. "Is it your wish to meet them?"

"I, for one, would like to acquaint myself with this mysterious, faceless messenger," Lord Celeborn exclaimed rambunctiously. The mood of everyone seemed to be lightening up now that Buffy's story had been told and a choice had been given to her.

Sending a sly grin at her husband, Galadriel patted his hand. "I am sure you would, my dear. But the decision lies with Lady Buf-ii. However, let me simply tell you that this messenger is also from the Halls of Valhalla."

They all turned to her then and waited for Buffy's answer.

She shrugged. "Oh what the heck, send 'em in!"

-

-

-

As soon as the words had left Buffy's mouth, Lady Galadriel's eyes shifted to the large doorway of the hall they had sat in for the past few hours. As if on cue, the doors opened and a shadowed figure slowly stepped in. Buffy worried her lower lip as she saw the shadow come nearer to the table. It was rather odd that she couldn't make the form out but she knew the shadow belonged to the figure of a woman. She looked at Haldir and saw the troubled expression on his face that mirrored her own. At least she wasn't the only one who thought they were seeing shadowy thingies walk towards them.

The darkened shadow was only a few feet away now but it was slowly beginning to materialise into a solid form. It was giving Buffy a big case of the wiggins but she thought that if Lady Galadriel trusted this thing, then so could she. A bright flash briefly blinded the quartet sitting at the table. Buffy blinked away the dark spots that danced across her vision before her eyes finally came to rest upon the figure looming above her.

She almost screamed.

Almost.

But Buffy couldn't speak; she couldn't even move from her seated position. Her bum was rooted to the chair and her tongue felt rough and dry in her mouth as she stared at the figure looking down at her with beautiful big brown eyes and dark honey coloured skin. Swallowing roughly, Buffy managed to find the will to speak. "K-Kendra..?" Her voice was high-pitched and squeaky from the absolute shock of the moment. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she cleared her throat and struggled to her feet. "Wha—How?"

"You know one another?" Haldir exclaimed rather loudly, for he too was overcoming the surprise he felt at seeing the shadow transform into a woman. A beautiful dark-skinned woman that appeared to be neither Elf nor mortal. He had never seen that type of skin colour before in all his long life... He knew that the people of the East possessed such dark skin, but he had never seen a dark-skinned person in the flesh. He did not know why, but he found the dark colouring amazingly beautiful and exotic.

The young, ebony-haired woman smiled chillingly at the Slayer as she ignored the March Warden's outburst, not looking away from her target. "Hello, Buffy..." Kendra's voice was just as accented as it was when she had been... alive. But now, that voice was softer and sweeter than it had ever been before. Her tone reminded Buffy of the Elves' voices.

She let her eyes wander around the figure of her supposedly dead friend and former Slayer. She was wearing a beautiful pale blue sheer gown that clung softly to her feminine, curved body.

Wait.

Kendra was wearing a dress—an actual feminine dress! If anything, that revelation would have been enough to knock Buffy right off her feet there and then. Her green eyes moved to the other woman's long dark hair spilled around her shoulders and down her back like delicate tufts of clouds as the strands framed her face and... She seemed more beautiful than she had been in Sunnydale, when she'd been alive. "How come you're here?" Buffy managed to ask rather dumbly.

Kendra's smile widened into a smirk. "You don't think you're the only Slayer that's in the Halls of Valhalla, do you?"

"Actually, I did."

The other woman _hmphed_ and folded her arms as she raised a single black brow to the ceiling. "Still the same self-centred Buffy. You were like this when you first came to the Halls. I don't know why I even thought it would be different now."

Buffy scowled fiercely. "I resent that!" She retorted angrily, putting her hands on her hips, "I am _not _self-centred."

There was a brief moment where neither Slayer spoke. They simply glared at one another, causing the three Elves witnessing the reunion to become wary and worried about the outcome of this meeting. Finally, and fortunately for everyone, both Kendra and Buffy began to laugh softly at the manner of their meeting.

"It's good to see you again," Buffy sighed as she moved to sit down once more.

"I take it you don't remember the short time you spent in the Halls with us?" Kendra mumbled with amusement as she too sat down on the empty chair across from Haldir. Their eyes met only for a moment, but it had been enough.

It had certainly been enough.

Kendra looked away, forcing down the blush that threatened to stain her caramel-toned skin.

"I don't remember much," Buffy admitted, noticing the momentary interaction between Haldir and the dark beauty. She was reminded that Kendra wasn't very confident in front of the fairer sex. Even now, after her death, she was still the same old Kendra. She looked the same, even though she seemed to be more rejuvenated, and she acted the same as before. There was nothing new about the other Slayer, except for the fact that Buffy could feel an indescribable power emanating from Kendra. It rolled off of her in serene waves, soothing her bruised and weary heart.

For Haldir, when their eyes met, he felt as if a jolt had been sent through his entire body for that one brief instant when the mysterious woman named Kendra looked at him with her large brown eyes. A becoming chill swept through him, raging like a fire upon kindling wood, but he fearfully pushed it away. He knew not what devilry was afoot but he would have to be alert. His reaction to the woman's gaze was most unsettling and disturbing.

"I was told that you wouldn't remember much," Kendra said after a short period of silence as she gathered her wits again. "But I'm glad I came." She turned to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn with a small smile of gratitude. "Thanks for allowing me to stay as long as I have. But I need to return to the Halls, soon."

"And thank _you_, Kendra, for bringing me the message from Valinor. I know it must have been difficult to venture out of the Halls," Lady Galadriel mused, feeling gratitude for the young woman's swift appearance in Lothlórien. The Elven Queen knew nothing about the power of the warriors that dwelt in the Halls of Valhalla, but she understood that they must possess a certain amount of strength that was mightier than expected.

"It was difficult," Kendra admitted. "But I knew I had to come. If not for Buffy, then for the message that needed to be delivered."

"Can I ask you something?" Four pairs of eyes came to rest on Buffy as she spoke out. She waited for Kendra's consenting nod before relaying her question. "How did you do that mystery shadow thing? If I remember correctly, _normal _Slayers can't go all black and misty."

The dark-haired former Slayer smirked knowingly. "It's a gift you get given, along with other things."

"Oh... Cool." Buffy's echoing voice lingered in the air for a moment.

The encompassing silence was broken as Kendra rose from her seat, clearly avoiding Haldir's penetrating blue gaze that had constantly been fixed upon her. "Me task is done and now I must return."

"How will you get back?" Buffy asked worriedly. She knew that Valinor and the Halls of Valhalla were far, _far_ away from Middle-earth. She wondered how the dark-skinned woman would return.

Kendra looked at Buffy with a slightly smug smile. "It's me secret."

"Figures that you of all people would say that," Buffy snapped as she and the three Elves also rose from their seats.

Kendra rolled her eyes, "Well, I am what I am."

"Yeah, and what's that? A bitch?" From the confused expressions of the Elves, Buffy knew they didn't have a clue as to what she was saying. She felt a little guilty for swearing in front of the Lady and her husband, but it passed relatively quickly.

Once again, both Slayers dropped their angry demeanours and smiled at one another. "I suppose this is goodbye for now, Buffy," Kendra said somewhat sadly.

Buffy nodded solemnly. She stepped out from behind the rounded table and moved closer to embrace the woman, knowing exactly what the reaction would be.

True to herself, Kendra backed away slightly with feline grace and a glint in her dark eyes. She held her index finger up in warning. "I don't do hugs," she reminded Buffy with a glare.

The Slayer returned the gesture with a smile but it soon faded away into a frown as her arms hung limply by her side. "I'm sorry," she whispered, hoping only she and Kendra could hear. Unfortunately for Buffy, the Elves could hear every single word clearly and were listening with interest at the private conversation.

"For what?" Kendra asked blankly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop her."

Kendra's eyes widened fractionally as realisation dawned brightly within their dark depths. She knew that Buffy was talking about Drusilla. "It's all in the past. And I'm happy now. You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm glad," Buffy murmured sadly.

"So am I... But, me wish is to see you again soon, Buffy." The dark-haired woman nodded once at the Elves. Then, just as before, she began to fade away into a shadow once more.

Buffy let out a long, deep sigh. "Me too." She stared at the empty space Kendra had just occupied. A hand upon her shoulder made her turn to face the Lady. "I'm tired," she admitted softly to the tall Elven woman.

Buffy wasn't just fatigued from the long evening and afternoon she had spent learning about the history of Arda. She was tired of living; tired of _breathing_. If she could have chosen, she would have gone to Halls of Valhalla with Kendra at that very moment instead of waiting for another death to come upon her. She would've really liked to return to the peace and rest Kendra had waiting for her in the Halls of Valhalla. She knew that Kendra had been sent as a messenger to reassure Buffy that this, everything she was experiencing, was certainly all real. Valinor, the Valar, the Halls of Valhalla; it was all real. And the choice that had been laid upon her loomed in the distance. She only had a year to decide if she wanted to move on to Valinor or remain in Middle-earth. How was she ever going to decide that?

Lady Galadriel saw the deeply rooted weariness in Buffy's eyes and smiled reassuringly. "Haldir will escort you to your appointed guest _talan_ and Silivwen will show you the way. You will need a permanent residence for the remaining year if you decide to stay in Lothlórien, but that will all be arranged in due course."

The Slayer nodded wearily, feeling too drained to form an answer. She barely registered the new presence of another Elven woman as she entered the Lord and Lady's Hall, hardly noticing that Haldir was bowing to Celeborn and Galadriel in farewell. Through the haze of her thoughts, Buffy didn't even think that she had the strength to fight off the March Warden as he took her by the arm in a gentlemanly fashion and led her out of the Hall. Her footsteps felt heavy against the wooden floor as the Elf woman named Silivwen led them out of the tree-house before going down and around a countless number of steps. Unknowingly, she leaned heavily against Haldir's supporting arm, though he did not seem to mind at all.

Buffy didn't even remember how or when they had reached the guest tree-house, or even how she had fallen face first into the wonderfully soft bed, but she had. And the peaceful slumber that embraced her like the silk sheets around her body, felt glorious.

-

-

-

**Added Notes:** Regarding the Halls of Valhalla; a bit far-fetched but workable, no? I haven't seen this idea around before, so hopefully it's original. Let me know what you think of it and what you think Buffy's decision should be.


End file.
